


Reassembling

by texanfan



Series: Reassembling (series) [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-18
Updated: 2011-03-18
Packaged: 2017-10-17 02:42:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 80,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/texanfan/pseuds/texanfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if both Buffy and Anya died at the end of The Gift?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reassembling

A pulsating ball of energy formed in the sky near the top of the tower. Xander found he couldn’t take his eyes away from it as bolts of lightening ripped from the seething mass. They had lost, really, truly, irrevocably lost. He’d never really believed such a thing was possible. A hard shove sent him to hands and knees onto the rough concrete slab, jolting him out of his thoughts. He flipped over to face whatever hellish beastie had sent him sprawling. Then he saw her, one pale arm peeking out from under a pile of concrete and debris.

“Ahn?”

He scrambled forward and began throwing pieces of concrete and twisted metal to the side.

“Ahn?”

He eased her out from under the fallen debris.

“Ahn?”

She was eerily still as he ran his hand over hair matted with concrete dust, blood, and an alarming yellowish ooze. Everything ceased as he tried to comprehend that he was still living while she was not. It was impossible. Life without her had been inconeivable for months, hence the marriage proposal. She couldn’t abandon him; she wouldn’t do that to him.

Friends, he had to find his friends. Willow would make this make some kind of sense.

He found them all grouped around another pile of rocks, around another golden haired body. He stumbled as he joined them, Anya held to his chest. Buffy lay face up in the rubble, as still as Anya, and reality crashed into him like a wrecking ball. It was only then he realized it was quiet.

Willow looked on in mute horror, clutching Tara to her. There would be no help from that quarter. Giles stared at Buffy’s body like a lost child; no help there either. No help from Spike, body obviously broken from his fall, weeping in a shattered heap at the fallen Slayer’s feet. He laid Anya’s body down next to Buffy’s to better appreciate the total destruction of his world.

Movement dragged his eyes to the tower. Dawn descended the rickety stairs like a somnambulant, one arm pressed tightly to her stomach, her eyes fixed on Buffy. This was going to destroy her and he had no words, no quips or assurances to soften the blow. He saw her eyes go wide and she called Spike’s name as she quickened her steps. His eyes cut back to the vampire who continued to stare at Buffy while thin tendrils of smoke rose from him in the pre-dawn light. A few more minutes and he would be a momentary pillar of flame and then nothing but ash. Xander envied him, wishing that he could embrace oblivion with so little volition.

Dawn was running down the stairs in that ridiculous ceremonial dress and bare feet. Spike would be dust before she ever reached him. Xander considered the effect of one more loss on Dawn, and promptly decided Spike would just have to wait to immolate himself. He snatched a tarp off a pile of bricks and threw it over Spike before manhandling the unresisting form into the small office building. His movement snagged the others into his wake like they were caught in an undertow.

“Supposed to be me,” Spike gasped out, over and over. Xander didn’t have time to listen. He was moving now, if he kept moving he could stave off complete collapse. His mind ordered the necessary tasks and assigned them like he would at the site.

“Giles, go get the car.” Giles’s stricken eyes met his briefly, then he nodded as he moved off. “Dawn, honey, how badly are you hurt?”

“Not, not bad, they’re shallow cuts.” She slapped her hand over her mouth as if she’d just uttered an obscenity.

He squeezed her hand quickly then beckoned Tara over. “Check her over, if she’s not too bad we’ll fix her up at the house, help her find her clothes. Willow, you’re with me, we’re going to set Spike’s leg.”

Everyone scrambled to do what he said, grateful to have a task to focus on rather than the corpses of their friends.

Xander looked Spike over. The obviously broken leg was the most visible injury, but he had no idea if there was something more serious, or if he could do anything about it if there was. Concentrating on what he could do, he grabbed a couple of pieces of rebar, then he sent Willow in search of something to tie the splint together.

“Shoulda let me burn,” Spike groaned while Xander felt over his limbs and along his ribs.

“Not happening today,” Xander growled. Willow returned with some rope she’d scrounged. “Willow, grab his shoulders.”

While Willow got a firm grip on Spike, Xander told him, “You may be an undead pain in the ass but you’re our undead pain in the ass, and we take care of our own.” Then he jerked the leg straight, yanking a scream from Spike.

Willow looked a little green, but she was holding up. “Shouldn’t we call someone? So they can come get …” She swept her hand in the direction of the two bodies.

“No!” The vehemence of Spike’s denial snapped both their heads towards him. “No one can know. Dawn’s … without family, they’ll take her.”

“But we’ll take care of her,” Willow insisted.

“Damn straight we will,” Spike agreed. “Which is why we have to keep the government out of it.”

“Sure it’s a little unusual but once we explain…” Willow, who felt guilty about cutting class even to save the world, wasn’t ready to concede that proper channels shouldn’t be followed, but Xander was getting a disturbingly clear picture of what Spike was saying.

Spike cocked a damning eyebrow at her. “Oh yeah. A bachelor magic shop owner, a bachelor construction worker, or two lesbian witches still in college. They’d hand a thirteen year old girl right over to you.”

“He’s right,” Xander managed not to choke on the words. “We have to take care of this.”

“There has to be some other way.” The quivering of her lip told Xander she couldn’t face this disaster without some reputable authority to hide behind. Even if he had the energy to ease her grief, he wouldn’t know how. There was no easing this grief. He jerked the ropes securing the splint tight, taking out a bit of his pain on the task. Spike breathed sharply but didn’t complain.

“We’ll talk about it together before we decide anything,” he assured her. He was spared coming up with a better answer by Giles pulling up in the car. Moments later Tara and Dawn emerged from some back room, Dawn back in her old clothes.

Further discussion was tabled until they got back to the house, before someone happened on the scene and rendered the discussion moot.

They loaded their dead and wounded into Giles’s car. With ill grace, Spike bowed to the wisdom of the trunk being the only safe means of transporting him while Dawn slipped into the front. Before Giles could climb in, Xander brought the bot to the car. He and Giles shared a look before Giles nodded and Xander loaded it into the back seat with Buffy and Anya. It might cause questions none of them could answer and it seemed wrong to abandon it amidst the rubble. Then Xander, Willow and Tara walked to his apartment.

During the walk Xander found his momentum running low. He pushed thoughts of his last sight of Anya as far down in his mental awareness as he could, but it kept bobbing to the surface. He wished the girls would chatter so he could focus on them, but they had as little to say as he. Nevertheless, once they reached the apartment he was indescribably grateful for their presence, which kept the echoing emptiness of the place at bay. Willow and Tara went to work packing up his essentials while he stood in the closet trying to pick out a dress to bury Anya in. He couldn’t seem to make his mind decide between several options and in the end he closed his eyes and pulled something off the rack. He cracked one eye and looked at his choice, hung it back up and took down the one next to it. He rapidly went through the apartment and added a few things to the suitcase the girls had packed for him while they packed Anya’s dress, and then they made a hasty retreat. Xander wasn’t certain he’d ever be able to make himself return to the place.

###

Back at the house they renewed their delayed discussion. Xander sat on the floor with his back against the couch. What he really wanted to do was go upstairs and tend to Anya but this couldn’t wait. Willow and Tara sat above him and couldn’t seem to stand to be further than a few inches apart, reaching out to each other continually while keeping contact with Dawn who huddled between them, unnaturally silent. Xander wondered if she was going into shock. Her eyes kept darting to Spike, who slouched on the other end of the couch, as if she expected him to crumble to dust at any moment. Giles sat in the chair looking like he was about to explain some arcane mystery to a group of students. Xander wished he could believe some sort of rational explanation would be forthcoming, some way that Buffy and Anya weren’t lying dead in an upstairs bedroom. It would help if Giles’s hands didn’t shake as he fiddled with his glasses.

“If we wish to retain custody of Dawn the authorities cannot know what has happened.” Xander was certain another apocalypse was on its way when both he and Giles agreed with Spike.

“But, we can’t do this, we’re not equipped…” Willow protested.

Tara squeezed her shoulders, “Of course we can, baby. Families used to take care of these things all the time. It used to be normal.”

“I had to hand my mother over to strangers, and I hated it,” Dawn said in a quiet voice staring at her hands gripped in her lap. “I want to take care of Buffy.”

“We’ll bury them tonight,” Giles said, as if daring anyone to contradict him.

“So, will the Council send the next slayer here or somewhere else?” Willow asked, obviously eager to avoid further strife with a subject change. Willow was apparently giving herself resolve face, forcing herself to face the tragedy that awaited her upstairs.

“I don’t think there’s going to be a next slayer,” Giles said.

“Come again,” Xander said. He’d heard the spiel often enough to know the rules. One slayer dies, another is called. That was the rule.

“I believe the line now goes through Faith,” Giles said, sounding infinitely tired.

And the fun just kept on coming. Faith was fairly close to the last person Xander wanted to see right now.

“So the Watchers will, what, break her out of prison? Can I be several states away when they do?” The quip fell automatically but it gave no relief to his numbed senses. Idly, he wondered if he was going into shock.

“While Buffy lived the Watchers were content to allow Faith to stay in prison. Now that she is … gone, the situation has changed. I don’t intend to tell the Council about that change in situation until we decide the best course of action.” Giles was clearly using his usual wordy method of building up to something.

“But don’t the Watchers need to know?” Xander couldn’t help but think there was a certain naivety in Tara’s question. Xander hadn’t been certain of the Watchers’ good guys status since senior year.

As usual Spike used the steamroller method of broaching a delicate subject. “So they send a team to kill the bint, get a girl more to their liking. Let her and her Watcher safeguard this hellhole. We could find someplace cozier to live, someplace safer for the Bit.”

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose as if he felt a headache coming on. “Yes, Spike, that is the most disagreeable way you could have expressed that. While I can’t fault your desire to remove Dawn from the Hellmouth, I’m not comfortable being an accessory to Faith’s murder. There has been enough death of late and I, for one, am heartily sick of it.”

The finality of Giles’s tone deterred further discussion but Willow interjected one more point anyway. “As long as we’re keeping secrets from the Council, what say the Key was destroyed in Glory’s ceremony?”

Agreement was unanimous.

###

Dawn refused to be prevented from preparing her sister’s body and no one thought it anything like a good idea for her to be left to such a task alone. Tara offered to help and Willow was stuck to her like glue. This left Xander alone to prepare Anya’s body, but he preferred it that way, the last service he could do for the woman he loved. After some token protests they left him alone while they went to help Dawn pick out a dress for Buffy.

After he started the tub filling, Xander retrieved Anya’s body from Joyce’s bedroom. He paused to lay a quick hand on Buffy and whisper a goodbye.

In the bathroom he stripped Anya’s dirty and torn clothes off and lowered her into the tub. He found washing her hair bizarrely relaxing. Gently as he could he washed the blood and grit from her hair and body, straightened and wrapped mangled limbs. It felt like he was putting things as right as he was able. He would not fail her in this final service as he had in battle. He very carefully rinsed her hair, one hand shielding her face. She detested soap in her eyes. He dropped a kiss to her forehead before he lifted her out and dried her from head to toe. He dried and arranged her hair, attempting to hide most of the damage. Finally he slipped the dress onto her unresponsive body. Briefly he debated the engagement ring. Ultimately he left it in his pocket; after all, she’d been right, the world did end last night.

He carried her back into Joyce’s room and laid her next to Buffy. He left before the girls could come in. He was afraid Willow might try to comfort him, and he was afraid she might say nothing at all. He wasn’t sure which he feared more. He fled downstairs, where he was free from any expectation of expressions of sympathy, from either Giles or Spike.

Giles was applying a bandage to a bare-chested Spike’s back while trying to convince his patient he needed stitches.

“Only thing to fix me up is blood,” Spike said over his shoulder. “Don’t have enough juice in me right now to heal anything.”

Without a word Xander bypassed the watcher and vampire and went to the kitchen. There was a block of knives by the sink. He took the paring knife and tested its sharpness against his thumb. It would serve. He ignored the strange looks the other two gave him when he walked in and perched on the edge of the couch. Without a word he sliced his forearm open, offering it to Spike. It was a good sharp knife and he barely felt the blade biting into his flesh. He found himself curiously detached from his own actions, putting no significance to them. A problem had been presented and the solution was obvious, simple.

Spike stared at him in shock momentarily, but brought the dripping arm to his mouth before Xander’s blood spilled uselessly to the floor. If Xander had ever shocked Spike before he was sure he would have remembered it.

At Giles’s horrified look he said, “Don’t want to have to dig alone.”

It was a good, practical reason and it would placate Giles. It might even be true. His mental processes hadn’t really gotten that far.

There was another, unspoken reason that he suspected they knew anyway. He hoped he’d get light headed enough from blood loss to pass out. Hell, if Spike drained him dry he’d consider it a favor. Spike’s tongue felt strange as it chased the streams escaping down his arm back to their source and then began lapping over the wound. It tickled in a way that felt oddly pleasant. He was actually a little disappointed when Giles pulled his arm from Spike and began bandaging it. He didn’t pass out, but he did feel pretty woozy, the past couple days catching up with him at last. He barely heard the lecture from Giles to never do such a stupid thing again as he sank to the floor. A pillow was shoved under his head as he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Two

The ground writhed under their feet, the smell of ozone filled the air as lightening arced and crackled overhead and debris rained from the sky. Xander glanced up for the source of the rain of dust and concrete chips and spotted the crumbling of the neighboring building. He pulled Anya away over shaking ground to the shelter of the office. They checked each other over, finding only minor scrapes and bruises, and laughed at their latest close call. They looked up at the portal and …

Xander’s alarm went off. He stretched, feeling his feet poking over the end of the double bed. He got out of Buffy’s bed to retrieve his day’s clothes from the suitcase sitting on Buffy’s dresser and reflected yet again on the sick twist of fate that had him sleeping in Buffy’s room. It had been three days since they had buried the room’s rightful occupant, and he wasn’t sure it would ever feel normal. He had to be at work before any of the girls needed to be at class so he had a little uninterrupted time in the mornings.

Willow and Tara had taken up residence in Joyce’s room, and Spike had been installed in the basement. Xander found he couldn’t protest Spike’s presence. He was still recuperating from his injuries, and they needed him too badly to risk some nasty finding him at less than full strength in his crypt. Only Giles had declined an invitation to live at Casa Summers, claiming a need to have an adult refuge from the house’s other denizens. Xander suspected it had more to do with needing a refuge where he could get roaring drunk and weep without upsetting the rest of them.

He went through his morning routine fairly mechanically. A shower and shave took all of fifteen minutes then he headed downstairs. He found Spike staring out the window at the rising sun, standing just out of the path of its deadly light.

“There’s coffee,” Spike said without looking at Xander.

“Thanks,” he replied, still trying to fathom the fact that Spike had made coffee, for the second day in a row, as he shoved two frozen waffles in the toaster. Weird as it was, it allowed him to get to work both on time and fully awake. By the time he finished breakfast, movement could be heard upstairs but he knew better than to talk to any of the girls first thing in the morning.

“Get some sleep,” he told Spike as he grabbed his tool belt and hardhat. He got the usual grunt in response and exited the door.

###

Work was easy. There were problems, personality conflicts, orders not arriving on time and the like, but none of the decisions he made had the fate of the world riding on them. And there was good, hard physical labor to exhaust his body and mind to numbness. When he couldn’t achieve numbness, he steered his mind to the bizarreness that was his life while he hung drywall. He would put the night they buried Anya on fast forward to the point where Dawn dragged him aside and flung her arms around his neck, thanking him for saving Spike while his shirt soaked up her tears.

“I know he’s a monster,” she wept even as he rubbed her back and tried to tell her she didn’t have to explain. “But he’s my monster.”

Later that night he’d been awoken from a fitful sleep by the sound of crying coming from down the hall. He blinked himself awake, reorienting himself to the strange surroundings. It probably took him a full minute to realize the crying was coming from Dawn’s room, and he stumbled into the hallway, toward her open door. He didn’t get farther than the doorway. Spike sat on the bed rocking the sobbing girl in his arms and crooning a snatch of some old lullaby to her very softly. It made him wonder if Spike had been poised at the foot of the stairs, waiting for sounds of distress.

Spike caught sight of him in the doorway and nodded his head back towards Buffy’s room as if to say, ‘I’ve got this.’ Xander must have still been half asleep because he went back to bed without a word of protest. Maybe it took a monster to chase away the bad dreams that haunted Dawn, haunted them all, he thought briefly before going back to sleep. Maybe that explained the fact that he and Spike had been civil to each other, one of the strangest things to come out of this warped situation.

Midway through the afternoon Giles called and asked him to drop by after work. As much as he didn’t want to, Xander told him he would. Worry over what Giles might want to discuss kept him reviewing all the worst parts of the last few days. It got bad enough that he was glad when the workday ended so he could get it over with.

Giles was sober when he answered the door but Xander noticed the bleary eyes and generally rumpled appearance that suggested this hadn’t been the case earlier in the day. The lingering scent of whiskey was a dead giveaway. “Hello Xander, thank you for coming.”

“No problem, Giles. What’s up?” Xander was uncomfortable entering the familiar apartment. Giles had always been a stickler for order in the small space, but now dirty clothes were in evidence, some even draped over furniture, a plate with the remains of Chinese takeout was left on the coffee table and several glasses were leaving rings on the wood.

Giles took a seat at the dining table which was covered with a rather disorganized pile of papers. Xander recognized insurance statements and Magic Box receipts amongst the handwritten notes. Xander couldn’t help thinking that Anya would have been able to whip the mess into shape in under an hour. He’d been more than happy to cede all financial planning to her eager hands months ago.

“I was designated the executor of Joyce’s estate, and so I have been dispersing the insurance money to pay for the hospital and household bills,” Giles explained. “I believe I have finally paid the last hospital bill.” He shuffled through a stack to his right while he talked. “However, thanks to the totally bolloxed healthcare system in this country, the money Joyce meant to sustain the girls for some years will barely cover the next three months.”

Xander slid into a seat opposite Giles. He was uncertain where to begin and grabbed a package of manila folders off the floor. He began unwrapping it, to have something to do with his hands as much as anything. Plus Anya swore by the things. “My lease is up next month, once I’m not paying rent I can help out.” It was the best use of his paycheck he could think of.

“I was reasonably sure you would feel that way,” Giles said approvingly. Then he fished a handwritten piece of notebook paper from the bottom of a pile on his left. “This is the amount Willow and Tara will be able to contribute to the household expenses.”

He passed the paper over. It wasn’t much, but then tuition ate up most of their scholarships. He added his monthly salary to the paper and stuffed it in a folder he then labeled income.

They spent over an hour sorting through the various piles. The worst part was watching Giles pick up a sheet and stare at it as though he couldn’t make any sense of it. He’d always relied on Giles to be the stable rock of their little group, the designated adult. It was strange, and, not a little frightening, to watch him wrestle with the task as if it were beyond his capabilities, as if he were too tired to think. For the thousandth time that day, Xander wished Anya were here. She’d have some inappropriate and cuttingly accurate remark to make that would break through the brooding silence that was becoming the group norm.

Consulting a household budget that Giles had compiled a month ago, Xander postulated, “Doesn’t look too dire, my salary can cover most of this. With Willow and Tara pitching in, we won’t be living high on the hog but we’ll be able to get by.”

“The proceeds from the Magic Box will be able to cover any shortfall and begin a college fund for Dawn,” Giles said while shoving the last sheet into the appropriate folder. The mess had been reduced to a manageable stack of folders. Giles seemed to take some comfort in the establishment of order over this small pile of chaos.

Xander felt a cold shiver pass through him at mention of the Magic Box. “No hurry about reopening though, right? You’ve got your Watcher’s salary and we’ve still got some insurance money. I don’t know about you, but I’m not looking forward to walking in there again, now that she’s gone.”

“Yes, the place is quite full of memories,” Giles admitted.

Xander remembered proposing to Anya in the basement of the shop and said nothing, not trusting his voice.

“Still,” Giles continued, sounding old and resigned, “It must be reopened, it’s too valuable a resource to leave closed indefinitely. I intend to have Jonathan pack away the training room equipment. That should go a long way towards making it more tolerable.”

“Jonathan?” Xander found himself choking on the name.

“Yes, he starts work tomorrow,” Giles said absently while staring at a spreadsheet. “It’s advantageous that he knows something about magic.”

“Yeah, I guess that would be good,” Xander stumbled out pushing himself away from the table. He had a ridiculous image of Jonathan fondling Anya’s cash register. He’d always had something of a soft spot for Jonathan, seeing him as something of a kindred spirit. Right now, he hated him more than he’d ever hated Angelus. “I better get back to Casa Summers, Tara’s cooking and I don’t want to be late.”

“Can I rely on you to manage this?” Giles asked, indicating the budget that Xander had been perusing.

“Absolutely Giles, I’ve got it covered.” He would have agreed the sky was green with pink polka dots to get out of that apartment in the next 30 seconds. He backed out without another word.

###

 

He drove the long way home, then twice around the block, trying to gain control of himself. He couldn’t go in and let his girls know he’d been crying. He pulled into the driveway and plastered a grin as brittle as fine china on his face.

Willow was going through the mail and Dawn was doing her homework at the kitchen table, Tara was standing at the stove stirring spaghetti sauce. Xander inhaled extravagantly as he entered.

“Mmm, smells fantastic,” he swept Tara into a low dip, “you have seduced me with your culinary skills, I’ll give you gold, jewels, furs as long as you cook for me.”

The over-the-top performance had the desired effect of setting all three girls giggling. It was a sound he’d missed in the last few days. As an added bonus, it kept them from noticing that he couldn’t manage a laugh. He righted Tara and slid into his place at the table amid questions as to his whereabouts.

“Giles and I were just figuring out the vast Scoobie financial empire, and I’m happy to report we’re comfortably in the black.” He was grateful he had some good news to report. “Speaking of black, where’s short, pale and fangy?”

“You just missed him,” Dawn said, eagerly ignoring her homework. “He headed out to check out a vamp nest before the whole gang goes charging in. He should come back in an hour or so.”

The last time they’d tried to patrol the Hellmouth without Buffy, they had made do with walkie talkies, but their range was truly pathetic. It was time they upgraded to cell phones.

Willow had gone back to sorting the mail while Dawn caught Xander up, now she exploded back into the conversation. “Dawn! What the hell is this?”

He watched Dawn hunch down and dart her eyes to the available exits so he intervened. “What’s the problem Wills?”

“She’s been skipping school.” Willow pointed at Dawn as if she was accusing her of clubbing baby seals.

“Hey, we all had unexcused absence due to apocalypse on our records,” he defended.

“Xander, she has thirty unexcused absences. Thirty!”

“Dawnster? That’s not like you,” he said, trying for calm.

Dawn’s voice got soft and small. “I kinda went nuts after Mom died. I wouldn’t have done it again, after Buffy told me they were talking about taking me away, but then we were running from Glory and things got a little out of hand.”

Tara, Willow and Xander exchanged looks, and Tara nodded toward the dining room while saying, “Dawn, why don’t you make the garlic bread for me.”

Xander gripped Dawn’s shoulder and winked at her before following Willow out of the room.

“They’re talking about putting Buffy on probation,” Willow hissed. “That means home visits and interviews, and we have no Buffy!”

“Calm down, Will. The wheels of CPS turn slowly, trust me.” He regretted saying it when it produced that sympathetic look from Willow. “We’ll go and talk to the principal. See if we can’t make a deal of some kind.”

“Depends on what she’s missed,” Willow said, shifting into battle mode. “With this many absences I’m not sure we can avoid summer school. Maybe I can cast a glamour. We have plenty of components….”

“Set up an appointment, I’ll take a long lunch or something and we’ll get this straightened out,” he said. Willow tended to get flustered around authority. In the old days he would have been propping her up when she was reduced to meek babbling. These days he might be called upon to prevent Willow turning the principal into a newt. He felt like a parent.

###

The day after going over the finances with Giles was Saturday, and Xander was lounging around reading the paper, drinking his morning coffee before he started the day’s chores. The house’s upkeep had been neglected during Mrs. Summers’s illness and even more after her death. Xander made himself useful whittling at a small mountain of minor home repairs. If it also served as a great excuse not to return to his apartment to pack up his and Anya’s things, he wasn’t complaining. Dawn plodded downstairs wearing blue pajamas covered in romping bunnies. Xander was half out of his chair, ready to act as a visual shield against hopping portents of doom, when he realized there was no need. He made a muttered apology to the girls around the dining table, heading up to Buffy’s room before he broke down.

He closed the door behind him quietly before he sank onto the bed facing the window. He sat there just trying to breathe. He bunched the comforter in his hands seeking stability, something to ground himself. Behind him he heard the door open and shut with a tiny click. Willow sat down next to him not saying a word. When he began to gasp out sobs, she rubbed his back.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that before his breathing came easier and he turned to her and said, “We were going to get married.”

She pulled him into a hug, whispering understanding words into his shoulder. Wrapped in the arms of his best friend he felt better than he had since That Day. Just telling someone seemed to ease something inside. “It feels like there’s this huge hole in my chest, like someone reached in and ripped out major organs. Sometimes, I think of something I need to tell her, and I’m halfway through dialing the phone before I remember.”

“Shh. I know,” Willow said in a soft voice, still stroking his back. “I can help. There are a couple spells that can help speed you through the grieving process. There’s even one that can make you forget ….”

Xander pulled away from her, not even trying to conceal his horror from her. “Forget! Willow, have you gone crazy? My memory is all I’ve got left of her.”

“But those memories are hurting you,” she insisted. She looked down, relenting at the look on his face. “OK, maybe the forgetting is a little extreme but I’ve got other stuff.” Her eyes were shining with the joy of finding a solution to a difficult problem. “I’ve needed to focus. Kind of put missing Buffy on a shelf. There’s this spell that numbs the pain until it’s just this undercurrent, no more ripped out heart feelings.”

She was excited, as she always was when she saw a way to help. Maybe this thing worked for her, but he couldn’t help wondering what price had to be paid for the relief. Consequences seemed to be things Willow didn’t concern herself with anymore, not when the thrill of discovery was on her anyway. And she never liked accepting that sometimes, there was nothing to do but go through the pain.

“I think I’ll get through this without magical help,” he managed a lopsided smile to reassure her. “I just needed someone to listen to me for a minute. Thanks.”

The smile didn’t do the trick. Willow pulled herself away from the spell components dancing in her head and refocused on him. She looked at him with sad eyes, like she had when he was failing geometry, like she wished she could just pour the formulas into his skull. “Are you sure? It doesn’t have to be a big spell, there are lots of little ones that just, ease things along. I hate to see you hurting like this.”

“I’m absolutely sure. Just doing the big girly cry thing and having you listen helps a lot. I feel much better now,” he assured her. He put on the best goofy Xander face he could manage. “I’m just going to wash up and I’ll be right down, ok?”

Reluctantly, Willow left the room. He knew her. Because she cared, she’d be watching. If he didn’t want to be the lab rat for one of her spells, he’d have to watch his step. If he didn’t bring Anya up again for a week or so her attention would go on to other things. It muted the comfort crying on her shoulder had afforded him, but he knew he couldn’t talk about Anya to anyone in the group anymore.

###

Sunday found him in the basement, tightening a leaky pipe. He tried to ignore Spike, who sat on the camp cot that served as his bed and attempted to stare holes through him.

“Was thinking,” Spike said into the oppressive silence, “could use your bedroom furniture down here.”

Xander found himself unable to argue with this logic as there was no way the king size bed would fit in Buffy’s room. “Sure, why not.”

“Comfy bed, is it?” Spike said in a nonchalant tone.

Xander shut his eyes, when that bed had contained Anya it was the most comfortable bed he’d ever slept in. Without her he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to fall asleep in it again.

“Been sleeping rough long enough,” Spike continued as if Xander had answered. “If it’ll hurry matters along, Giles and I can pack your place up, probably grab that Jonathan bloke Giles has working for him now. Could get it done by the end of the week.”

Xander gritted his teeth at the mention of Jonathan but conceded that this was likely his best chance of avoiding sorting through his shattered life himself. Careful to keep his back to Spike and his voice neutral he said, “If you’re that impatient to mooch my stuff, feel free. Its not like you haven’t already snooped through everything I own.”

“Well, I am hoping your porn collection has upgraded since your basement days,” Spike snorted.

“Just get me my clothes and my tools, do whatever you want with the rest.” Xander kept his voice steady. Not like anything anyone was likely to find there would come as much of a surprise. Not like he had the faintest clue what to do with most of it or the mental energy to try.

“Giles was talking about using the training room for a store room,” Spike said, with a hint of sympathy in his voice. “Someplace to put extra stuff, until you and the Bit feel up to going through it.”

Xander nodded. Sounded reasonable, and much cheaper than another apartment. “That would be good.”

“Don’t mind,” Spike said nonchalantly. “I always liked demongirl. Always knew where you stood with her.”

Xander peered over his shoulder to smile. “Not many people really appreciated that about her.” He turned back to his work. “Me, I wouldn’t know what to do with a tactful girlfriend.”

“Well, yeah,” Spike sounded as if this was abundantly self-evident. “You can trust a girl like that, that she means what she says. Dru doesn’t have a deceitful bone in her body, lots of incomprehensible ones but none deceitful.”

And that was indeed one of the things he loved about Anya. She might embarrass him in front of his friends, but if she told him something good he knew she really meant it. “She liked you too. Said you were the only person who didn’t turn green when she talked about the old days.”

Spike chuckled.

Finding himself in the strange position of conducting a civil conversation with Spike, now seemed like an opportune time to satisfy his curiosity. “What’s your angle, Spike?”

“My angle? Do I look like a bloody triangle to you?” All trace of civility disappeared and Spike started pulling on his boots, obviously intent on leaving.

That may have been a bit poorly worded to a guy who’d just taken a job he’d been dreading off his hands. Xander made his tone more conciliatory. “I mean, I get the chasing Buffy thing. But why stay now? You could be out creating mayhem with your vampire buddies. I mean, you hate most of us.…”

“Don’t hate any of you,” Spike grumbled under his breath.

That shocked Xander so much it called for complete abandonment of his task, so he could give the vampire his full attention. The fact that Spike had affection for Dawn was undeniable but he’d always been comfortably certain of Spike’s hatred of himself.

“Excuse me? ‘As soon as I get this chip out I’ll rip your guts out and make origami out of them.’ Sound familiar?”

Spike’s gaze pinned him in place. “Yeah, it sounds familiar. Also sounds old, nearly a year now. Things change. I’ve made myself a bloody pariah in the demon community for you lot. Don’t have many other places to go. Closest thing I’ve got to family is right here. Besides, promised Buffy I’d protect Dawn to the end of the world. I failed on the tower, I won’t fail again.”

“Spike, I …” Xander was saved trying to figure out what he could say to such a declaration by Spike storming out of the basement.

Xander moved on to the next task on his to do list and tried not to think about what he’d just learned.

Two days later he came home to discover that all of Buffy’s things had been removed from her room and his clothing inhabited the closet and the dresser. Even the bedspread had been changed from the girly confection that had decorated it to a more neutral solid green. He felt like a ghoul but couldn’t come up with a legitimate objection. When Dawn started talking about making the room over to reflect its more manly occupant there were traces of tears in her eyes. He realized this was one of her chosen methods of coping and he couldn’t say no.

Chapter Three

The meeting with Dawn’s principal went as well as could be expected. Oddly enough she never even asked why Buffy hadn’t come herself, so all their carefully crafted lies were available for their next encounter. The principal and Willow spoke the same language, and Xander soon found himself a little awash in the discussion of credits and percentiles. Didn’t matter, he was just there for moral support anyway. It ended pleasantly with the decision made to send Dawn to summer school, and no one turned into a newt. All in all, much less painful than he had expected.

Dawn was much less pleased with the arrangement. She complained about the unfairness of this bitterly, which Xander was secretly glad to hear. It was the sort of thing a girl her age should complain about. It sounded like healing to him. It would also give Dawn something to engage her just when the last thing she needed was to sit around home and think about how much she’d lost.

A week and a half after they lost Buffy and Anya, they called a full Scooby meeting. Giles wanted to talk strategy now that they would have to patrol the Hellmouth without the Slayer.

“Regular patrols have been disrupted while we concentrated on Glory, and while we recovered.” Giles said, spreading a map of Sunnydale across the dining room table. “It is vital that we rapidly assess the current state of affairs with Sunnydale’s demon population. I think it is prudent to divide up into teams and investigate the area in sections.”

“Oh, I could test my ball of sunshine spell, I think I have it perfected.” Willow bounced in excitement.

“Right, I’ll be staying far away from your team then,” Spike grumbled.

Spike had fully recovered a week ago. Even so, he became a permanent resident of the household by one of those unspoken agreements that seemed more common than the spoken variety these days.

“Yes well, I was going to recommend that we split into teams of two and…”

“Me and Tara,” Willow blurted, while Tara gave her an indulgent smile.

“Guess that means you and me, Fangless.” Xander gave Spike’s chair a playful kick.

“I suppose you expect me to keep you from getting eaten then?” Spike said with a quirked eyebrow.

“I guess that leaves you and me, huh Giles?” said Dawn.

“Nope Dawn, that leaves you and Giles holding down the fort,” Xander said.

“That is so totally not fair!” Dawn erupted. Fortunately a knock at the door interrupted her before she got a full head of steam going.

“That’ll be the pizza I ordered, be right back,” Xander said as he made good his escape.

The move safeguarded Giles as well as Dawn. He, Willow and Tara had agreed that Giles was too shaky to patrol at the moment. He handed $30 to the pizza boy as he took the two larges from him. He was a generous tipper since his own delivery days even though it cleaned out his wallet. Which was strange, because he was pretty sure he’d had $50 in there. Sure they were doing ok but he needed to keep better track of money than that.

The arrival of food and the subsequent scramble for napkins and drinks effectively tabled the argument of who was patrolling and who was staying home. Dawn wore a resigned pout.

Giles assigned sections of Sunnydale to the two patrol groups. Spike insisted that he and Xander cover the opposite end of town from Willow and her experimental spell, which was easily accommodated.

Oddly enough Xander didn’t mind being paired with Spike as much as he might. Since their little talk in the basement they had kept conversation to a minimum, and Xander found the silence strangely restful. Spike didn’t comment on his silences, and the two of them could snipe at each other without engaging in anything too emotionally taxing.

They checked out possible trouble spots and Xander found himself mulling over the puzzle Spike presented. Looking over the past couple months, he tried to remember when the last time Spike had acted against them was. He couldn’t come up with much since Riley’s departure. Well, there had been chaining Buffy up and threatening to feed her to Drusilla, proving lovesick vampires could be as stupid as lovesick teenagers. Revising his opinion of Spike was an unappealing task but, given that they were stuck with him for the foreseeable future, one he couldn’t see a way to avoid.

He was sunk enough in these thoughts that he didn’t sense any danger until Spike yelled at him to watch his back. Xander spun around in time to see something large, gray and scaly bearing down on him. He barely got his ax up in time to block a swipe from the creature’s claws. Then Spike leaped onto the thing’s back and started whaling on it with his sword. Xander tried to distract it from attempting to claw the attacker from its back with a frontal attack. He deflected one swipe but wasn’t fast enough to get his ax in the path of the second set of claws. He threw himself back from the attack but he still felt the burn of claws raking his side. He looked up to see Spike shove his sword deep into the creature’s neck and watch it topple over. He congratulated himself on sustaining only minor injuries from the fight: the claw marks were barely bleeding. Then numbness began to spread out from his side. He stumbled over to the nearest gravestone, propping himself against it as he sank to the ground.

He’d just gotten himself settled when Spike came up. He shoved Xander onto his side to get a look at the claw marks. He didn’t look happy about what he was seeing.

“What was it?” Xander was disturbed to hear his words come out slurred.

“Graknor. Got paralyzing poison on its claws. Here, try to move your legs.” Spike’s matter of fact, clinical tone was freaking him out. His attempt to move his legs produced pitifully weak results.

Spike cupped Xander’s chin and turned his head so he faced him. “Talk to me, Harris,” he commanded.

Xander tried, he really did, but couldn’t produce more than a gurgle.

“Right then,” Spike picked him up like the heroine of one of those bodice ripper romances his mother read. It was humiliating, but there was very little he could do about it since he seemed to have lost all ability to move.

“Blink for me,” Spike snapped at him, as he headed out of the cemetery. When it was obvious even that motion was beyond him Spike propped him up for a second and shut his eyes.

Xander was barely conscious of movement when Spike resettled him. His body was too numb to distinguish individual motions, and now he was blind as well.

“Don’t want your eyes to dry out,” Spike explained.

Spike’s consideration was more reassuring that disturbing, which was a change. One Xander didn’t bother to contemplate for long. The mortification of having his head resting on Spike’s shoulder was blunted by the fact that he couldn’t see, and could barely feel, anything happening outside his own head. There was just a vague rocking motion that was more soothing than anything else. Maybe he’d just sleep through the whole trek back home.

Spike’s voice close to his ear roused him a little from this. “Go to sleep on me now and you won’t be waking up again.” Spike sounded irritated, as if Xander was purposely inconveniencing him.

Well, he imagined dying would be pretty inconvenient. As much as he didn’t want to desert his friends, a tendril of relief snaked through him, like smoke rising from a vampire at sunrise. It was a seductive idea, that he could just fall asleep and not wake up. No more playing team cheerleader while he was hollowed out inside. Maybe he’d even meet up with Anya on the other side.

“Giving up then?” Spike said, as if he hadn’t expected anything else. “Good choice, I bet you’re numb enough I could probably drain you right now. I’ve gotten patient, if I have to wait for the poison to kill you that’s hardly a problem.”

Under ordinary circumstances the image of Spike draining him dry would have been disturbing. As it was, he saw no reason why Spike shouldn’t get a good meal out of his death. Spike wouldn’t be able to sink fangs in him if it hurt, and in his current state he guessed it probably wouldn’t. A painless death was certainly more than he ever expected the Hellmouth to accord him. Whatever Spike chose to do with his body after the poison killed him was of little interest. In either case, he was powerless to even express an opinion, so he mentally washed his hands of the whole matter.

“Of course, with you all limp like this I could probably bugger you without a headache. Worth thinking about.” Spike said in a considering tone. Xander was simply too tired for straight-man panic. He was beyond caring. Now if Spike would just stop talking he could die in comfort, and Spike could do whatever he liked with his body.

Then Spike’s voice dropped an octave, took on a dark undercurrent that would have made Xander shiver if he’d been able. “Got a better idea. Bet I can get some blood down you without much trouble. Bet you’d make a lovely vampire, pet.”

Xander’s heart gave a lurch. He tried to tell himself that Spike wouldn’t be able to make good on the threat, but he wasn’t being very convincing. He should be able to be convincing inside his own head. And Spike’s honey dark voice continued. “Wonder who you’d go for first? Rupert? Bet you’d find something interesting to do with those glasses he’s forever rubbing. Have a spot of revenge for every time he made you feel stupid.”

And Xander could see it in his mind. Himself, or a demon shaped like him, taking petty pride in ripping up the closest thing he had to a father. He wanted to scream, to run and hide, but he was stuck leaning against Spike’s chest.

“Maybe it’d be Dawn, she’s a lot of responsibility isn’t she, not really in the plan. Mmmm, bet she’d taste sweet. Might have to beg a bite off you.” The sweet, dark whispers kept flowing like poisoned honey, and now Xander was determined to pound Spike’s face in. How dare he! He was supposed to be sworn to protect Dawn.

Spike wasn’t finished. “Might have to pull you off Willow. You can drain her, that’s fine, but fledges are such messy eaters, and I don’t want you to mark her up too bad. I’m thinking she’d make a beautiful vampire. Useful too.”

Xander had far too much knowledge what vampire Willow would be like. And she could only be worse now that she’d gotten so magically powerful. He couldn’t bear to think of his beautiful Will tainted like that. He desperately tried to struggle, but the signals refused to travel to his muscles. It was like he was trapped in some kind of weird dream, unable to affect anything around him.

And still Spike went on. “Real wiz Willow is. I’ll just bet she could find some way to bugger the chip. She’d do it for her sire. Betcha with a little tweaking the Buffybot could coax that pesky soul out of Angelus. Now that could be some real fun times. I’d give you to him as a toy. He can’t resist breaking a new boy in, keep you in chains for days, maybe weeks. Might even drive you mad. While he’s busy with you I’ll get Willow to bind Dru to me for eternity. She’ll never stray again. Yeah, I’m really liking this plan. You just lie there and die like a good boy, and we’ll be having fun in no time.”

Xander wondered if it was possible to vomit in this state. He felt a jar and heard a door swing open. Then he heard Giles sounding frightened. “Spike, what happened? Is Xander…?”

“Still alive for now. Graknor demon, I’m gonna take him upstairs.” Spike said in a perfectly normal tone, as if he hadn’t just been discussing Giles’s murder a few minutes ago. Xander desperately tried to scream a warning.

“Of course, I’ll make coffee.”

“Good idea.”

Coffee? Giles was making coffee? Xander knew he wasn’t Giles’s favorite person but was the response to being told he was about to die really to prepare a warm beverage for the ocasion? His outrage was still frothing when he was laid down, presumably on his own bed.

“Always knew you’d die without a word,” Spike whispered in his ear. “Bloody lamb to the slaughter you are.”

Then he heard Willow’s shriek, “Xander! Please, you have to be all right. Please, open your eyes.”

And he thought about Spike putting a demon in her body, about himself with his fangs sunk into her throat and he screamed a whisper, “No, no, you have to stake him.” He winched his eyes to half mast and shoved at Spike hovering above him even though he had all the strength of a new-born kitten. “Wants to turn me.”

Just then Giles came dashing in clutching a mug. “You’re moving! That’s wonderful! Spike, help me prop him up.”

Despite Xander’s ineffectual struggles Spike maneuvered him into a sitting position. “No, you have to stake him.” Then Giles was tipping the mug to his mouth and he had a mouthful of what tasted like espresso with lots of sugar, and he had to swallow or drown.

“Perhaps it would be better for you to wait downstairs,” Giles said to Spike.

Spike barked out a laugh, then a huge, smug grin spread across his face. But he nodded and turned to go. At the door he waggled his eyebrows and said, “Maybe later, Harris.”

He looked at Giles who just tipped more espresso into his mouth. “Willow, would you get me another cup, and start another pot, we have to keep his adrenaline up until the poison works its way out of his system.”

Willow sprinted out of the room, eager to be useful.

“Giles, what happened? Why are you pouring espresso down me?” Xander asked in confusion.

“You were poisoned by a Graknor demon, it paralyzed you, depressed all of your systems. If you had fallen asleep, you could have suffocated. I’m not sure what Spike said to you, nor do I particularly want to know, but he elevated your adrenaline levels which counteracted the poison. Do you think you can hold the mug? It would be best if you drink the whole mug, possibly another cup or two as well until you have muscle control back.” Giles had to help him hold the mug steady but by the time he finished the contents he was holding the mug, albeit shakily, on his own.

###

When he’d fully recovered Xander sought Spike out in the basement. He handed him a beer and sat down on the cot. “I understand you saved my life.”

“’s my job innit? Pulling you Scoobies’s fat out of the fire,” he said in a blasé tone.

“You scared me shitless,” Xander said, leaning back on his hands.

Spike allowed a smile to curve one side of his mouth. “Good to know I still have it in me.”

Xander looked over at his companion with a sly smile of his own, “And you loved every minute of it.”

That got him the full evil grin. “Oh hell, yeah!”

Chapter Four

Graknor attack aside, Sunnydale was experiencing the usual post-apocalypse lull. They found a couple of vamp nests and some random demons but, Hellmouthly speaking, things were quiet.

Less so on the home front. Tara stepped into the role of den mother without complaint. Xander maintained the yard and kept at the list of household repairs but he noticed there seemed to be a lack of participation from Willow, Dawn and their melanin-deficient lodger. Spike was hardly a surprise but he expected Willow and Dawn to pull their weight.

It was Saturday morning and Tara was trying to open the door to the basement while balancing a massive load of laundry on one hip. Breakfast was sizzling on the stove. Xander took the basket away from her.

“You don’t have to do everything, you know.” Xander told her.

“I don’t mind.” She released her grip on the laundry basket but didn’t move away. “It’s how I help.”

“You do too much. Where’s Willow?”

Tara immediately went into defend Willow mode. “Oh, she’s upstairs studying. She’s researching some really powerful combat spells. To hold the Hellmouth without a slayer, she’s got to be at the top of her game.”

“Tara, Willow does not have the whole Hellmouth resting on her shoulders. If it wasn’t a good enough excuse for Buffy to get out of chores it’s not good enough for Willow either,” Xander insisted.

Left to her own devices, Willow tended to obsess. She also wasn’t really used to having chores. Someone needed to put their foot down with her and he hoped it wasn’t him. So he picked on the nearest available person.

“You need to get Willow and Dawn to help you out. But for now.” He took the laundry basket from her. “I’ll handle this.”

Tara smiled at him but didn’t protest as he took the basket and headed downstairs.

Xander easily balanced the basket, overflowing with towels and bedsheets, as he descended the bare wood stairs. He dropped the basket and started loading towels into the washer.

“Trying to sleep here,” said a gruff voice behind him.

Xander spun around, just barely clamping his mouth against a girly shriek.

“Spike!”

He knew that came out more shriek-like than he would wish, but it was the only response to the apparition in front of him. Spike’s bedhead made him resemble a dandelion, while his sleepy blue eyes, especially with one fist swiping at them, made him look like a child got up too early. The fact that he was not a child was made abundantly clear by the fact that he was standing at the foot of the stairs stark naked.

“Not that anyone could sleep with you clomping about.” Spike continued his complaint as if Xander were not staring at him in gape mouthed shock.

With effort Xander focused his eyes firmly on Spike’s face. “You can’t wander around like that, Spike. What if I’d been Dawn?”

“It’s how I sleep. And I knew who you were.”

“Great, wonderful. Could you stop giving me the full monty now?” Xander begged in what he hoped was a reasonable tone.

“Fine.”

Spike turned to the bed which filled up most of the space on the other side of the stairs and pulled a pair of jeans off the floor.

“Not as if I’d be able to sleep once that thing started banging away anyway,” he grumbled as he pulled on the pants.

“So sorry to inconvenience you,” Xander said, voice drenched in sarcasm, as he turned back around and loaded up the washer, “but four humans and an undead moocher generate a veritable mountain of laundry. Especially when one of them happens to be a teenage girl. I think there’s a law that says they must change clothes at least twice a day. It has to get done sometime.”

He started the washer and, now that he was no longer in danger of spying Spike in all his naked glory, took a good long look at the unfinished basement. The bedroom suite from his apartment looked out of place with the concrete floors and bare pipes. Black plastic covered the two high windows, a temporary measure that made the space look even more shoddy. Accumulated stuff had been shoved to one side to make room for the furniture. There was a lot to be done down here, but he knew where he wanted to start. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to Spike or himself when he said. “We need to get a lock on that door.”

Spike sat on the foot of the bed running a hand through his hair, possibly trying to get it to lay back down. “Got to keep me from corrupting the Nibblet.” Spike’s voice sounded resigned.

Xander shook his head, stood to reason Spike wasn’t a morning person.

“I’d say that was a high motivation, yeah.” He eyed the door speculatively. “I can pick up the stuff today, what kind of lock do you want? I’d think a sliding bolt would do, but if you want a deadbolt it wouldn’t be that much more work.”

When Spike didn’t answer he turned to him. Spike was staring at him like he’d just spoken a foreign language. Running over what he’d said, Xander couldn’t figure out what was so surprising.

Spike’s next words were tentative, as if he was sure what he was saying was wrong. “So, you mean to put it on this side of the door.”

Spike wasn’t usually this dense, what was the deal?

“Yeah.” He drew out the word like he was talking to an idiot. He never realized it took Spike so long to wake up. Then again, between staying up all night listening for Dawn’s nightmares and the human hours he tended to keep he knew Spike wasn’t getting much sleep.

“Tell you what,” Xander shut the washer off, “go back to sleep, I’ll do these when I get back from Home Depot.”

He headed back up the stairs but didn’t get past the second step before Spike said, “Wait.”

He turned his head to look down at the blond. “You decide on a lock?”

“Oh, uh, sliding bolt ’ll be fine. About the laundry. Can’t have you lot traipsing through my bedroom whenever you’ve a mind to. So, leave what needs washing outside the door up there and I’ll do it. Put it back all fresh and clean.”

Spike’s grudging tone made Xander smile.

“I won’t do any folding, mind.” Spike insisted, apparently remembering he had an image to maintain. “And ironing is right out.”

“Of course,” Xander imagined he could let him off with a little dignity in place and continued up the stairs.

In the kitchen Tara was just serving up breakfast to Dawn and Willow. He slid into his place at the table and gratefully accepted the scrambled eggs and bacon passed to him.

“Got you some help with the laundry,” he said around a piece of bacon. “Just dump the dirty stuff by the basement door and Spike will run it through the washer and dryer in exchange for a little privacy.”

Dawn boggled at him. “You got Spike to do laundry,” she said in a “yeah, sure” tone.

“Totally his idea, no folding or ironing but they’ll be clean.” He looked over his shoulder at Tara, “I’m pretty sure he’s figured out how not to shrink everything, or turn all our underwear pink, but maybe you should check the first few loads.”

Tara nodded. “Giles wants to have a meeting at three. Now that the trouble spots are mapped out, he wants to form a battle plan.”

“Do I at least get to sit in on that?” Dawn whined.

“Only if you promise to avoid all the areas marked in red,” Xander told her. Red marked all the locations where team effort seemed appropriate.

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll just sit home with my babysitter.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “I never get to go anywhere.”

“You could go to the hardware store with me.” OK, so it was boring, but it was what he was doing today.

“Yeah, right.” That’s about what he expected.

Tara was moving boxes and bowls on the counter, clearly conducting an unsuccessful search.

“Lose something, Tara?” Xander asked.

“I took off my ring before I started cooking, I was sure I put it right there.” She indicated a spot on the windowsill which was conspicuously blank.

“Maybe you left it upstairs?” he offered.

With the blindness of self-involved youth Dawn said, “When Spike comes up, tell him I need help with that history paper, OK?” and left before getting an answer.

Tara took the teenager’s desertion in stride. She abandoned her search and turned back to Xander. “Could you pick me up some rosemary? I want to add it to the garden.”

“Sure, Tara.” Xander wasn’t sure if they were growing cooking supplies or spell ingredients in that garden, possibly a little of both. “Anything I can get you while I’m out, Wills?”

Willow didn’t look up from the spell book she’d been buried in the whole time.

“Earth to Willow.” Xander chided. “Anything you need?”

“Huh?” She looked up for the first time. “No, nothing I need.”

“Researching spells?” he tried to peer over at the page she was studying. All he caught was a bunch of symbols he probably wouldn’t understand if they were right side up before her arm fell across the page.

“Yes, and I really need to concentrate.” She shut the book and left.

Tara and Xander shared bewildered looks.

Willow seemed to be getting more remote. He wondered if the spell she’d mentioned had anything to do with it, but bringing that up might constitute volunteering to be a magical lab rat, so he said nothing.

###

Errands took longer than he expected, and it was early afternoon by the time he got back. He heard Dawn’s high pitched voice complaining about having to write about some stupid battle, and Spike’s outraged tone declaring she had no sense of history.

He stuck his head in the doorway just as Spike was jabbing a finger at the textbook, “This battle reshaped Europe!”

Dawn flipped her hair in a way that communicated total disinterest.

The sight of Spike helping Dawn with her homework had to be one of the most surreal sights he’d ever seen. He wondered what the teachers thought of Spike’s, no doubt, blood-soaked version of history.

“Mind if I interrupt?”

Spike slammed the book closed in disgust and turned toward Xander, “What’s on your mind, Harris?”

A scandalized look crossed Dawn’s face, then it changed to teenaged pout. Xander ignored the mood. He only planned to take a minute then she could go back to beating on her vampire.

“Wanted you to look through these,” Xander tossed a Home Depot bag onto the table.

Spike pulled paint and tile samples out in confusion.

“I got to thinking, we always have overages at work. I can pick material up cheap and finish out the basement. You can have anything you want as long as it’s not too outrageous. No red walls and black carpet or anything like it.”

Spike blinked at him. He looked back down at the samples in his hands. “What’s the tile for?” His voice sounded dazed.

“We could really use another bathroom in this house so why not put it in at the same time? There are some nice layouts in there, look through and we’ll talk about it later.”

The response to this rather one sided conversation confused Xander utterly. Spike looked like he’d been hit by a truck, while Dawn glared at him. What could she be mad about, he hadn’t even spoken to her! Retreat seemed the wisest course of action so he went to attach the lock.

###

Giles seemed to be pulling himself together at last. His clothes were generally unrumpled and he didn’t smell like a distillery. There was still a puffiness about his face that seemed to indicate insufficient sleep. But he stayed focused as he outlined the top three trouble spots on the map.

A nest of yak-something demons had set up in the park where they had killed at least one kid. That was top priority behind the two, relatively small, vampire nests. The yak demons were big, pig-like and had hides that put rhinos to shame. Sounded like a party.

“So, can I have a sword?” Dawn asked brightly. Xander was glad Tara was the one to shut her down.

“No honey, Mr. Giles is going to stay with you.”

“But why! It’s not like Glory can use me anymore.”

“She can’t use you to open a portal,” Willow chimed in. “That doesn’t mean she doesn’t want revenge. We don’t know when she might reemerge from Ben and …”

Xander noticed Giles’s lips whiten as he gripped the back of the dining room chair. “Ben’s dead,” he bit out.

All heads turned to him.

“What?”

“Did Buffy …?”

“Nicely done, Rupert.”

“So good to have your approval Spike.” The chair was creaking ominously now.

“No, Giles,” Xander moved forward and laid his hand over Giles’s. Suddenly, mindful of the huge weight the older man had carried for all of them. “He’s right. Glory would have come back and killed us all.”

‘That’s what I tell myself but …” he faded off as if he didn’t believe the words.

“I’m glad you killed him.” Dawn’s voice rang out clearly from across the room. “He was a monster.”

“Dawn …” Tara reached out to run a hand over Dawn’s hair but the teen stepped away from her.

Spike reached out a hand and drew her to his side. She stepped closer to him but kept her spine straight as a plumb line. Spike didn’t hush her or try to calm her, just rested one hand casually on her shoulder. Silent support.

“No. You don’t know. We got away. He could have let me go, but she promised him she’d spare him if he brought me back. He traded the whole world to save his own skin. He deserved to die.”

“Desperate young men do not always make good choices,” Giles told her, “if we claim to be superior to the vermin we must show mercy…”

“Mercy is for the strong,” Spike ground out, he maneuvered Dawn a little behind him, as if a threat to her loomed in front of him. “And we, children, are wounded and hurting.”

“I will not let you rip the last shreds of their innocence away.” Giles got into Spike’s face, glowering down at him.

“Would you rather it was their guts, Rupert?” Spike didn’t back up an inch, if anything he pushed closer. “Because all this,” he waved his hand at the map with its color coded trouble spots. “is nothing. Glory left a big whopping power vacuum behind her, and it’s only a matter of time until the next big bad comes looking to move into it.”

It was a strange tableau. Giles and Spike squared off, acting as if they were alone in the room, as if the rest of them were too young to understand the harsh realities of life.

They got reminded real quick when Willow used her handy dandy separate spell to put them in neutral corners.

“Enough!” she declared.

Xander winced as Giles was flung into the sofa and Dawn had to dive out of the way as Spike was flung into the wall. Willow really needed to turn down the power on those things.

She eyed Giles with a speculative look, as if she was seeing him in a whole new light. There was a certain ruthless approval there. “You can’t always protect us, Giles. We may all have to get our hands dirty to defend this place.” Then she turned a disapproving eye on Spike. “And we will beat any big bads that come our way just like we always have.”

Giles straightened, visibly drawing that adult air of authority up to be polished like he did his glasses and put back on. “I suggest we concentrate on tonight’s endeavors rather than rehashing irrelevant matters.”

And that was that, British reserve fully clamped into place, topic closed.

Dawn seemed satisfied. Possibly the subject would need to be reopened with her; it couldn’t be good for her to hate so very much.

Tara was pained but accepting, which pretty much summarized Xander’s own reaction. Thinking about the members of their little monster hunting squad, Giles was really the only one of them emotionally equipped to put the greater good above their own squeamishness. Except for Spike, who would have reveled in it, but was currently physically incapable. He owed the man, Xander decided, and part of payback was getting him through the guilt.

###

It was disconcerting just how normal standing in a playground at night holding an ax felt.  
Willow and Tara carried a few spell components, Giles and Spike were armed similarly to himself. With the revelation that Glory was gone, Dawn had the leverage she needed to insist that she didn’t need anyone to stay with her. They all feared what havoc a bored teenage girl might wreak unsupervised, but acknowledged that Giles’s help would be welcome. Besides, getting back on the horse could only help the Watcher.

Five of the beasts lumbered out of the bushes at them. They were the size of Shetland ponies, but hairless and splotchy with huge curved tusks jutting from their lower jaws. They had set up a nest here and would kill anything that wandered too close. No one wanted to see the next kid’s birthday party turn into a massacre. Well, maybe Spike, but his vote didn’t count.

Tara and Willow clasped hands and cast an immobilizing spell that caught two of the demons. Spike whooped and charged the nearest one that was still moving. He drove his ax into the back of its neck, the most vulnerable spot. Giles moved to dispatch the two immobilized beasts while the other two made a run at the girls. Xander imposed himself between them and the two chanting witches.

He searched around for a way to distract both beasts, a few seconds would be all it took for Giles and Spike to be finished. He swung at the lead beast and whacked it upside the head with the blade. It bounced off the tough hide. It changed direction to focus on him. He ran from it across the path of the second beast, which successfully diverted it’s attention to him. So now he had two demons barreling down on him. That was what he wanted, really it was.

He heard Giles shout something but couldn’t hear what it was through the pounding in his ears. He had just begun to cut back around toward the group when he felt himself flung forward. He toppled to his side and saw one of the beasts tumble away from him. The other one was almost on top of him. He scrabbled for his ax just as another ax embedded itself in the creature’s neck.

“Don’t think I want the ears and the tail,” Spike said as he took another swing that took the demon’s head off. The other demon was being dispatched by Giles. The military strategist that lived in the back of his mind yelled that they were getting in each other’s line of fire, but as the guy whose role in the battle had been to run away and fall down, he didn’t feel like pointing this out.

They dragged the carcasses into the bushes, decided they were then someone else’s problem and headed home.

Xander thought it was odd that he hadn’t seen Willow cast anything new. Where were the snazzy new combat spells?

They found out the following Saturday morning, when Willow cornered them in the dining room.

“What’s the deal, Will?” Xander asked, turning to face her.

Willow had the most excited look on her face he’d seen there in a month, and he dared to hope she was about to deliver good news.

“I’ve been researching and I’ve found a spell to bring Buffy back. We can get her back.”

Chapter Five

If she was expecting her enthusiasm to be contagious she was disappointed. “Didn’t we talk Dawn out of doing this with her mom, why was that again, oh yeah, because it’s wrong,” Xander growled.

“It is wrong, it’s against all the laws of nature and practically impossible to do,” Tara interjected.

Sensing a need to rally the troops, Willow went into explaining mode. “Buffy didn’t die a natural death, she was killed by mystical energy.”

“I hadn’t really thought about that,” Tara allowed. “Her life force was drained by the portal before she ever hit the ground, which means resurrection is possible.”

As opposed to being crushed by several 100 pounds of cement, Xander thought. No mystical loophole for Anya.

“It means more than that,” continued Willow, “it means we don’t know where she really is.”

“We saw her body, Will. We buried it.”

What a fun filled night that had been, laying his hero and the love of his life side by side in the cold earth, in a hole he and Spike had dug.

“Her body, yeah, but her soul, her essence, I mean that could be somewhere else. She could be trapped in some kind of hell dimension like Angel was, suffering eternal torment just because she saved us, and I’m not gonna leave her there.” She looked back and forth between the two of them. “It’s Buffy.”

“Willow, I really think we should check first,” pleaded Tara.

“Buffy died saving the world. They don’t send you to hell dimensions for that,” Xander said with as much kindness as he could muster.

“But dimensional doors were popping up all over, she could have ….”

“Willow, she’s dead.” Xander’s fragile control snapped as a sore point he’d avoided for weeks was pressed repeatedly. “She and Anya are both dead, and there isn’t anything any of us can do about it. If you have some kind of proof that Buffy’s in some hell dimension I’ll do anything you say. Otherwise, please, don’t put me through this.”

“Sweetie, I think I know where to find a soul location spell, I think it would be for the best.”

“But I can do this, I know I can,” Willow whimpered as Tara pulled her away.

Xander sank into a chair and buried his head in his hands.

###

All afternoon he tried to put it out of his mind. It was a pointless exercise, but he did try. Images of the freaky lightning striking all around them, opening little glimpses into various hell dimensions, wouldn’t leave his mind. He was actually glad when it was evening and time to convene for patrol. Tonight they were taking out the second vamp nest.

They still didn’t like leaving Dawn alone, even though nothing terrible had happened the last two times she’d been left alone while the full team conducted an assault. Well, Dawn’s sulking had reached new heights at not being included, but they could deal with that. So the five of them against just under a dozen vampires, most of them fledges, should be pretty close to a cake walk.

The vamps had set up in one of the larger crypts. They set up around the entrance to the crypt right after sunset. Two vamps emerged and were summarily dusted with crossbow bolts before the rest even knew they were under attack. The remaining vamps came boiling out, and only one more got hit with a bolt before it was hand to hand.

One vamp charged Xander, intent on tackling him to the ground. Xander brought his stake up, and it slipped into the fledge like a spatula shoved into brownie batter. Just like it felt the first time he’d ever staked a vampire. When they were this newly turned it took very little pressure to plunge the stake home. His assailant disappeared in a cloud of dust.

It was too easy, the cloud dispersed leaving nothing in its wake to mark that a human shaped being had been there. There should be something left behind, some acknowledgement that Jesse had been there. Something that caused that much pain shouldn’t be so very quick and clean.

Somewhere in his mind that first loss merged with the most recent ones, and the desire to rip and tear with his bare hands overcame him. No tidy pile of dust to blow away on the evening winds; he wanted to feel flesh tear and bones break.

Just then, another vampire obliged him by tackling him from the side, and his anger had a focus. He drove his elbow into his attacker’s gut and, when it loosened its grip, turned and began pummeling it with his fists.

Distantly, Xander was aware of the vampire clawing at his sides but he couldn’t feel the pain. He poured his own anguish into the body below him via his fists, striving to inflict as much damage as possible. Soon the vamp wasn’t doing anything except trying to defend itself, but he didn’t stop hitting. He felt like some mechanical pile driver, incapable of controlling his own arms. That being the case, it was probably a good thing that Giles wrapped his arms around him from behind, stilling him, while Spike staked the beaten vampire. Swirls of dust were all that was left of his opponent, and he sagged in Giles’s hold, his adrenaline surge fading rapidly.

He was grateful neither Spike nor Giles questioned him on his out of control behavior. Only vaguely aware that Giles silenced Willow when she began to ask what had just happened, he staggered away from his friends. There may have been vomiting.

The rest of the night passed in a fog. Somehow he ended up back at the house. He had a vague memory of the gashes in his side being treated, but the pain was distant and somehow irrelevant. Dimly he recalled waving off all questions and insisting he was fine. He was fairly sure he hadn’t been believed. Not that that mattered either.

The house was silent. Everyone had finally gone to bed and left him to his brooding. He wandered into the kitchen and noticed that the light was on in the basement, and the door was open. Looked like an invitation. Grabbing the entire case of longnecks out of the fridge, he headed downstairs.

Spike sat in the armchair, looking up at Xander as if he’d expected him. He didn’t say anything, just took the beer and steered Xander so he sat on the foot of the bed.

Xander downed the beer in his hand in two gulps, and Spike immediately took the empty and put another in his hand. Xander stared at it, trying to make sense of his surroundings, this alien landscape he’d found himself in.

Life just didn’t make sense when he was in this much pain and couldn’t talk to Willow. Having a girlfriend none of his friends liked had always been a problem, but now it was a crisis. When Spike was the most comfortable person he could be around, something had gone seriously askew in the universe.

Then again, the way things were now, the universe being that hinky was just about par for the course. The world felt like a jigsaw puzzle with half a dozen critical pieces missing. It only made sense that it would get put together in weird ways.

He took another swallow of his beer, then stared at the bottle. “Anya hated beer. She liked anything frozen and sweet. Margaritas, piña coladas, that kind of thing. She’d call them alcoholic slushies.”

“Perversion of good whiskey, I call it,” Spike smirked. “Course she never cared what anyone else said about such things.”

Xander cast a glance at his grinning companion and said, “She expected the world to make sense, always got frustrated when it didn’t. She could make you wonder, really wonder, about why things were the way they were. Stuff you just never questioned, you know.”

Spike raised his bottle and clinked it with Xander’s. “To Anya, a damn fine woman of pure heart and kinky mind.”

Xander gave a half smile at the toast, probably the best description of his Anya he’d heard, and downed half his bottle.

“I figure we’ve got something in common, mate,” Spike said.

Xander tried to remember if Spike had ever called him “mate” before, didn’t seem likely. “Don’t see how.”

“We both lost someone precious out on that field, maybe Buffy didn’t return my love the way your girl did yours but --”

“Not what I meant Spike.” Of everyone, Spike seemed the most likely to have some understanding of what he was going through, and with that realization came a burning need to make him understand. He drained his second bottle.

Spike lifted a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Buffy died saving the world. The whole world Spike! Hell, the way Giles describes it she saved whole other dimensions! I miss her, but I’m so damn proud of her. It’s such a perfect send off. Anya died because she saved me. Me!” He threw his bottle against the wall and watched it shatter. Apparently, he still had some anger left, and it was all focused on Anya. “Why did she do that to me? My life is worthless without her. I’m nothing without her, and no one understands.”

Sitting was impossible. He started pacing the basement in jerky strides as if he was on a ship in a choppy sea. “The whole thing was so stupid! She should have been hundreds of miles away, somewhere safe.”

He stopped at the wooden pillar in the center of the basement, digging his fingers into the rough wood until he could feel the splinters embed themselves in his flesh.

“But moron boy here.” He pounded his head against the pillar. “Told her it was all going to be all right, that the world wasn’t going to end. Hell, I even proposed!” He leaned his forehead against the pillar, tears streaming down his face. “I wasn’t even looking up, I didn’t see. The earth starts shaking, and I don’t even look up. But she did. She saw, and she pushed me out of the way. How could she do that? How could she leave me?”

“You’re being a selfish git.” The harsh words startled Xander, he’d all but forgotten he wasn’t alone. A comforting hand on his shoulder softened the words. “How do you think she’d feel, being the one left behind?”

A picture of Anya, alone in their apartment, his friends, her only social contacts, ignoring her pain, ignoring her, filled his mental landscape. It was a horrible picture to be sure, but nothing compared to the image that replaced it. Where was she right now? What was she suffering?

He’d been holding this inside ever since Willow had told him things he hadn’t dared let inside his brain for fear they would drive him mad. “They want to bring Buffy back,” he said into the post. “Willow says she could be in a hell dimension somewhere. That all the dimensions popping in could have sucked her soul into hell.”

“Rot.” Spike spun him away from the pillar. Xander felt the sting of Spike’s nails indenting his biceps. “White hats like Buffy and your girl don’t go to hell dimensions.”

He sounded like he felt he could make it true with the force of his words. But Xander couldn’t rely on his conviction. He grabbed Spike’s t-shirt in one fist.

“But what if Willow’s right? What if Anya’s there and there’s no way to get her out? What if there’s a fluffy bunny dimension, Spike? I don’t, I don’t….”

The capacity for coherent speech left him. His sobs made it difficult to breathe, let alone form words. He crumpled against Spike’s chest, soaking his t-shirt. His legs no longer supported him and Spike’s arm around his waist was all that held him up.

Spike didn’t say anything, other than a few nonsense phrases, as he pulled him back to the bed and held him close, practically in his lap. No cutting comments were made, no threats of blackmail, just a soothing rhythm of hushed words and the security of strong arms. Xander found he just didn’t have the energy to be strong anymore, and he collapsed into the offered comfort wholeheartedly.

Chapter Six

Xander woke up in his own bed. It was in Buffy’s basement, but it was his bed. He turned his face into the pillow, hoping to catch a hint of Anya’s lavender perfume. All he could smell was fabric softener and his own sweat. He hadn’t actually expected any different, but he was disappointed all the same.

He didn’t remember taking his shoes off but he was in his sock feet under the covers. He felt grimy and uncomfortable from having slept in his clothes, and he was stiff from the injuries he’d sustained in the fight. A glance at the clock told him it was definitely morning, and he groaned. He must have actually fallen asleep in Spike’s arms.

Since he wasn’t in evidence in the basement, Spike must be upstairs, preparing to mock him as soon as he emerged. He really should be dreading it more, but he’d needed the release so much last night. He found his shoes set neatly beside the bed, so he put them on and levered himself up. No use putting it off. With a laborious and heavy tread, he ascended the stairs to the kitchen.

Everyone was getting breakfast: Spike heating up a mug of blood in the microwave, Tara making pancakes and bacon. Small good mornings were exchanged but nothing else. Spike moved past him to the basement door.

“Think I’ll catch me a little shut eye, see you in a few hours.” He gave Xander a friendly nudge as he went past.

Mocking appeared to be off the menu today.

He eased himself into a chair at the table. Willow glared at Spike’s back until the basement door shut. When he disappeared from sight she returned to her breakfast as if she were searching for the answers to the universe in her plate, avoiding Xander’s eyes.

A plate of pancakes appeared before him.

“How are you feeling this morning, Xander?” Tara asked. She set the syrup in front of him.

“Like something big used me as a chew toy.” He smiled at her and hoped to get out of the concerned mother lecture.

“Let me take a look under the bandages after breakfast.” She moved back to the stove. Looked like she was postponing the lecture until she could punctuate it with a few well placed pokes to his injured sides.

“Where’s Dawn?” he asked, shoving pancakes into his mouth.

“Upstairs on the phone. Some of her friends are heading to the beach and she’s not speaking to us since we won’t let her skip school to go,” Tara said. Then she slipped into her place at the table. “She needed to commiserate about the injustice of it all.”

He nodded sagely. Make Dawn’s life miserable, check. They were officially parents. He eyed Willow again. She was pointedly ignoring him. He let it pass for a few minutes while he finished his breakfast, hoping she would break her silence. Finally he decided it was up to him.

“Willow, what’s the matter?”

She glared at him and her eyes were puffy, as if she’d been crying. “Since when does Spike get to know our business?”

He cut his eyes over to Tara for some kind of explanation, but she placidly sipped her coffee and said nothing.

“He loved her. He has a right to know.” The fact that he was saying that, and actually meant it, boggled the mind. Being talked to like an errant child rankled him and he asked back. “What reason could we have to sneak around anyway?”

“I trusted you to use discretion. I thought you could figure out that we shouldn’t go blabbing the plan to anyone and everyone.” Indignation rang in her voice.

The fact that Spike had given him comfort and support, things that his best friend had made impossible to seek from her, had Xander’s loyalties in a weird place at the moment.

“Spike is one of us, why shouldn’t he know?” Xander bit out. “Why would you want to keep it from ….” A light bulb went off over Xander’s head. “You haven’t told Giles, have you?”

“I thought you cared about Buffy. I guess I was wrong.” There was venom in her tone. He almost didn’t recognize it as her voice.

Before he could come up with a response, Tara laid a hand on his shoulder. “Come upstairs, I want to look at those gashes.”

Willow had returned her attention to her breakfast, stabbing at her pancakes. He allowed himself to be lead up to the bathroom without protest. Even with the confrontation with Willow he felt calm. It felt like all the fear and pain he’d been carrying around was emptied out the previous night. It wouldn’t last, but for now he felt capable of facing things.

He took his shirt off, wincing at the stretch of abused muscles as he dragged the t-shirt over his head. Tara pulled away the bandages gently, but it still stung. There were three long marks on each side along his ribs. Fortunately, only one was very deep.

“You’re going to need a new jacket,” Tara told him matter-of-factly. “Yours is trashed.”

“Died in the line of duty.”

“Well, without it you would have needed stitches.”

She rubbed something astringent on the scratches that burned like acid. At least, it burned the way he assumed acid would.

“So Willow’s trying to fly her whole resurrect Buffy plan under the radar, huh?” He asked, partially to distract himself. “Afraid Giles will shut her down?”

Tara nodded, smiling like Mona Lisa and daubed at the scratches. “I think so, but she’s mad about Spike because, after you fell asleep, Spike came up and had a little chat with her.”

“Uh huh.”

“He said if she dared tell Dawn her sister wasn’t in heaven, he’d risk the chip frying his brain to rip her spleen out.”

Xander felt himself go pale, and cursed himself for the selfish git Spike had called him last night. “Dawn! I never even thought about that. She doesn’t know, does she?”

“I don’t think she’s told anyone but the two of us. I think she only told us because she needs us for the spell.”

She seemed satisfied with the scratches and began applying a fresh bandage.

“She’s dealing with forces that shouldn’t be invoked lightly. I’m glad Spike was able to give her reason to reconsider. She hasn’t been listening to me the last few weeks.” Frustration laced her voice, and Xander found himself worried about his favorite witchy duo.

“Willow gets like this sometimes. The whole ‘voyage of discovery.’ She means well, but she can make you feel a little bit like an experiment. She actually wanted to cast some kind of forgetting spell on me.”

At the horrified look Tara gave him he scrambled for a way to backtrack and came up blank. And exactly how had he forgotten about the fact Tara had been brain sucked by a hell god?

“She just offered, she didn’t do anything.”

Tara threw the debris from patching him up violently into the trashcan. “I’m worried about this spell, Xander. She won’t even let me see it, says she’s piecing it together from several different spells and she doesn’t know how to explain it. I’m afraid she’s playing around with some really dark magic. Why else wouldn’t she talk to me about this? We talk about everything.”

Xander considered his next words carefully. Willow was already mad at him. Did he really want to tick her off more by voicing his suspicions? Then again, if they didn’t start being honest with each other their secrets threatened to tear them apart.

“Tara,” he said softly. “I think I know why Willow’s being so distant.”

The hopeful look she gave him told him he’d made the right decision.

“She’s using some kind of spell to dull her pain over losing Buffy. She said it was so she could focus. I think she did it because she figured she’d get Buffy back, and she’d never have to go through the pain at all.”

Tara covered her mouth in alarm. “Doesn’t she realize how dangerous … never mind, did she mention what spell?”

“Even if she had, it would have all been chop suey to me. Just how dangerous is this stuff?”

“It’s hard to know for certain without knowing the specific spell. But likely she’ll have mood swings, and a callous disregard for those around her.” Tara looked like she was reviewing the past six weeks as furiously as he was.

“Well, that sounds familiar.”

The more he thought about it, the more obvious it seemed that Willow would consider Buffy’s death a grave injustice, one she had the power to correct. And if the means for achieving those ends were a little dicey she’d take the risk. She’d always take those risks for the people she loved.

“Tara, you may be right about the dark magic. When Glory attacked you, Willow broke into the heavy duty stuff to go after her. According to Buffy, she was pretty scary powerful against her too.”

Tara groaned and buried her face in her hands. “How could she?”

Xander stroked her hair, it seemed perfectly natural for her to end up crying on his shoulder. Seemed they all needed a little cathartic crying. “Grief makes you do crazy things. I mean, last night I apparently cried myself to sleep in Spike’s arms, you don’t get much crazier than that.”

The chuckle made any loss to his dignity worth it.

Eventually Tara pulled away, wiping her eyes. “I’ve got to get her to do that soul location spell. I think I can talk her out of this foolishness if she sees she’s wrong. But she’s so certain. I don’t know how to convince her.”

Xander considered everything he knew about the way Willow thought. Fifteen years of friendship should count for something. “She needs our help to perform the spell, right?”

“That’s a guess. If she thinks we’re against her she m-m- may try it w-w- without us.”

Tara was obviously terrified at the prospect. He could guess it was an exceptionally bad idea all on his own. The look on Tara’s face told him they could be traipsing into sucked into hell territory.

“Convince her it’s a necessary part of the spell. If she won’t believe she’s being stupid, show her she’s being sloppy.” An evil little part of himself gloated at how crazy he knew that word made her.

Tara brightened at the suggestion. “Of course! How can she bring her back if she doesn’t have a firm fix on her location? She’s planning on using the body as a focus, but I can persuade her that something might be holding Buffy that she’ll have to deal with first, and ….”

Xander was turning a little green. They were both assuming Willow was wrong. What if she wasn’t?

“Too much shop talk?” Tara asked. She laid a hand on his arm in comfort. “Don’t worry, Buffy and Anya’s souls are safe. We’ll perform the spell tonight and have proof of it.”

She gave him a half smile. “And if that doesn’t work, tomorrow we may have to stage one of our interventions.”

“Oh, because those always go so well.” Xander rolled his eyes but he returned her smile. “It’s a plan. We’ll get through this. It’s a lousy rotten situation but we’ll get through it.”

He was happy to realize that he actually believed it.

###

He left Tara to put the plan into action. As mad as Willow was at him, he could only get in the way at this point, so he went up to his room to change clothes. The remains of his jacket, lay on the bed. He’d really liked that jacket. With a resigned shrug, he emptied the pockets and tossed the rest in the trash, he’d need to get another one. One more expense.

He puttered about the room for a little while and emerged to a quiet house. The door to Willow and Tara’s room was closed, and he could only hope progress was being made behind it. He peeked into Dawn’s room. She was wearing headphones and gave him a death glare as she turned the music up higher. He beat a hasty retreat.

Weeks of losing himself in household repairs had reduced the mountain into a molehill. The only major project before him was the remodel of the basement. He was eager to start on it, but since Spike had gone to bed barely an hour before he doubted now was the time to go down there and start banging.

He and Spike had talked, in passing, about what might be done with the space, and Xander had made some initial measurements. He decided it was enough to start drawing up some plans.

He spent the next couple hours at the dining room table with graph paper, mapping out the dimensions of the proposed bathroom and assembling a list of the materials he’d need. The costs on the project were starting to look scary. He planned to do most of the work himself: he was really itching to do the cabinetry, but the wiring and plumbing would have to be contracted out, and that wasn’t cheap. He could get framing and drywall materials from the leftovers at their current site, but the fixtures were going to cost.

He fired up Willow’s laptop and spent another hour getting a good idea of just how much everything he needed would cost.

“Now, that’ll do very nicely.” Spike’s voice came from behind him and was accompanied by an arm pointing over his shoulder at the screen. Xander barely managed to not jump out of his skin.

He gave Spike a half-hearted glare then looked where he was pointing. It was the most expensive shower, naturally, complete with a large showerhead that would feel like warm rain and an eight setting shower massage head. Given his druthers Xander would like it himself.

“You don’t happen to have a grand or two lying around do you? ‘Cause that’s the only way we could afford it.” Xander looked up with a good natured grin on his face to find Spike staring hard at him. Xander was a bit puzzled, it was just a joke.

Spike left without another word, and Xander stared after him for a second before turning back to his searching. He doubted he’d ever understand the vampire.

He’d just gotten back into his price comparison shopping, when a large stack of bills appeared beside his hand. “Wha-?”

“There’s over $2,000 there, Harris. Put it away before one of the birds see it.” Spike whispered, nudging it closer.

Xander put a hand on the stack, flipping through the numbers with his thumb.

“Where’d this come from, Spike?” he asked suspiciously.

Spike wore a devilish smirk as he answered. “Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.”

Xander tried to fathom all the nefarious ways a chipped vampire could come by such a sum of money. It boggled the mind.

Spike clearly saw his help was about to be refused. “Listen Harris, you need the help. Niblet’s bits and bobs don’t come cheap. I didn’t steal the money from widows and orphans even if it wasn’t got strictly on the up and up.”

He put a hand on Xander’s over the money and leaned in close. “Our girl doesn’t go without.”

Xander looked into his eyes and saw determination there. Spike stepped back and Xander slipped the wad of cash into the folder he’d been filling with remodeling plans.  
Neither of them mentioned it again.

Spike pulled up a chair and they took to discussing the remodeling project.

Dawn came down at lunchtime only long enough to make herself a sandwich. Willow and Tara were deep in spell consult mode and barely noticed. Xander was considering how to tiptoe through the teenage minefield, when Spike asked her if she’d finished her homework for tomorrow. She immediately headed upstairs with her sandwich.

Xander laughed at Spike’s confused expression. He laughed so hard that it was a full minute before he could take in enough air to explain the situation. Everyone was looking at him with varying degrees of confusion and amusement but he didn’t care. It felt too good to laugh again.

Just before dark, Giles showed up to organize the evening patrol. Xander was discussing what to order for dinner when Dawn finally emerged from her room to make sure her wishes were made known on the subject. A good sulk only went so far.

Chinese was gaining the upper hand on pizza when Xander heard Willow and Tara on the stairs. “Better weigh in fast ladies or it’s moo goo gai pan for you,” he said. Then he caught a glimpse of Willow’s face. Looked like everyone had a good cry today.

“We did the soul location spell,” Tara said, one arm supporting Willow who leaned heavily against her.

“Buffy’s happy,” Willow cried.

Xander thought he could hear a touch of resentment in that statement. Remembering his own resentment of Anya the previous night, he understood. It also told him Tara had talked Willow into removing the spell on herself. She was feeling all the grief she had suppressed all this time. Next moment he was at her side and hugging her tight.

“She’s surrounded by all this bright, loving light. She’s with her mom and she’s just so happy,” Willow sobbed into his shoulder.

Giles removed his glasses and surreptitiously wiped his eyes. Spike looked away to hide whatever emotion he was feeling, and Dawn covered her mouth in shock.

Xander’s eyes met Tara’s and she answered his silent question. “We found Anya in Valhalla as a valkyrie. It seems to suit her.”

Xander felt his breath catch, and then a smile spread slowly across his face. He supposed it would suit her at that. Something tight and painful in his chest finally released.

Chapter Seven

Everyone arranged themselves more comfortably around the living room as that revelation sank in. Xander and Tara sandwiched Willow on the couch. Spike held Dawn in the big armchair, and Xander noticed she was really too big to cuddle that way anymore. One more growth spurt and she’d be taller than Spike. Giles couldn’t seem to settle anywhere. He paced, he leaned, finally he spoke.

“Yes, well, I think we can forego patrolling for tonight. I shall put the kettle on.” He moved to suit word to action.

Spike tipped Dawn into the chair as he stood. “Tea is no way to conduct a proper wake. I’ll be right back.”

Both he and Giles disappeared into the kitchen.

Xander cast an eye at Dawn. She was shaken but seemed reasonably composed. He turned back to Willow who was shaking in her grief. Half-finished sentences sprang from her as she glanced at Xander and Tara as if searching for absolution. Xander rubbed her back and made comforting noises.

Giles returned with a tea tray, complete with comfort cookies. Spike came back with a nearly full bottle of Jack Daniels and an unopened bottle of peach schnapps.

“Hardly the best, but needs must and all that.”

Chinese was ordered, glasses were distributed, and they all drank a toast to their fallen friends. While there was relief in knowing that those they loved were at peace, there was still an undercurrent of bitterness at being left behind to pick up the pieces

Dawn sat with her legs tucked in and her back propped against the big chair where Spike sprawled. She radiated “don’t touch me” vibes. Xander wondered what he could possibly do to make this bearable for her but kept coming up empty.

Willow stared down into her cup of schnapps-spiked tea. “I was the big gun,” she said, softly. “And I let her down.”

“Willow, no,” Tara said. She held Willow just a little closer.

Willow looked up, her eyes bright with tears. “I was so happy to have you back, I didn’t pay attention to what else was happening until it was too late.”

“You’re wrong, Will,” Spike said. He threw back a shot of Jack. “You and Tara got me up there in plenty of time. If I hadn’t let that bastard Doc get past me Buffy’d be here now.”

Xander wondered if there was anything he could have done differently. Should he have headed up the tower with Spike? Would it have made a difference or would he have simply been one more body adorning the rubble? It was impossible to know and equally impossible not to second guess.

“Don’t be stupid, Spike,” Giles chimed in. He drew a hand across his lined face, looked like the guilt train was carrying a full load. “It’s hardly as if you were Dawn’s sole protector.”

Xander winced, knowing Giles’s words would be a direct hit on the vampire, whether it had been intentional or not he couldn’t tell. Spike sat forward to glower at the watcher. “Not likely she’d trust you with the job after that speech you gave.”

“Well forgive me for trying to save the world,” Giles sniped back.

Xander expected the screaming. He didn’t expect it to be Dawn who did it. “Stop it!” She launched herself from the floor and scanned the room with accusing, wounded eyes. “Say what you really mean! I should have jumped, then you’d have Buffy and I could be with Mom.”

She charged up the stairs while everyone stared at one another. Spike started after her, but Tara placed herself in front of him.

“I think she needs a little time to herself,” Tara suggested. “I’ll go talk to her when dinner gets here.”

“Can’t have her thinking she’s some sort of soddin’ consolation prize,” he protested. “I’ve gotta tell her I wouldn’t trade the world for her, literally as it happens.”

“She won’t hear you right now. She didn’t just lose her sister, her sister died in her place. She’s so confused at the moment she doesn’t even know what she’s feeling.” Tara’s voice was soothing, and it promised everything would be all right. It was a false promise but it did succeed to getting Spike to sit back down, but his eyes darted toward the stairs frequently.

“If I’d brought Buffy back everything would be better,” Willow said to no one in particular, her eyes staring at the ceiling, as if she could see into Dawn’s room from there. “It could hardly be worse than it is now.”

Willow had either forgotten Giles was there or that he didn’t know. Either way, he knew now. Dire retribution loomed in his voice. “Willow, would you care to explain to me exactly what you mean by that remark.”

Willow looked at him and said with perfect honesty, “Um, no.”

She cast about the group but found no friendly port; no one was going to take her side against Giles in this confrontation.

“It’s just, couldn’t she be enjoying eternal bliss later?” Willow winced a bit, like it sounded silly to her own ears. “We need her. I need her.”

“Do you have any concept of what you might have unleashed?” A new fire danced in Giles’s eyes as that encyclopedic brain went to work. “To say nothing of what you might have done to Buffy or yourself.”

“I did my research,” Willow protested. “I’m not some amateur.”

“Oh, but you are,” he said in a low, condescending voice. “Only a rank amateur would attempt such a foolhardy experiment. It’s obvious to me I’ve let you run amok with your magical experimentation far too long. I trusted you to have better sense than this, Willow”

He turned his gaze on Tara and continued. “And I expected you to be a steadying influence on her. Clearly, it’s time I took a firmer hand.”

Tara looked ready to protest then sat back, seeming chastened.

“Your training begins tomorrow. I expect you in the shop directly after class. Do you understand me?”

Xander felt Willow vibrating with indignation. She’d always been the teacher’s darling, this had to be foreign territory for her. He stroked her back, trying to calm her. She and Giles exchanged glares for a few heart-stopping seconds, and then Willow folded.

“Fine,” she said with ill grace.

“Then let us speak no more of it tonight,” Giles suggested, leaning back in his seat and smiled indulgently. “I think I’d much rather know what could induce Buffy to dress up as a fairy tale princess.”

Giles might very well smile. It wasn’t as if he’d worn a costume to turn into that Halloween. He got a good few pokes in before Xander and Willow retaliated by teasing him with the band candy incident.

Tara turned the conversation when it looked like Giles might die of embarrassment. “Anya showed me how to do online trading. She made it look so easy, but I completely flubbed it, lost money in stupid ways. She told me not to worry about it and took over the account for me. A couple weeks later she gave me back the money I’d invested with a really nice profit. Less a 10% fee.”

The last sentence restored the lighthearted mood. Xander could have kissed her. It gave him a sense of peace to share memories of Anya with his friends at last.

Dinner arrived and Tara took Dawn a plate. She returned to the others with the news that Dawn didn’t feel up to company and had been adamant that she wanted to be left alone. Xander was pretty sure the look on Spike’s face meant he’d be spending the night at the foot of the stairs.

The stories continued well into the early hours of the morning. Spike confided that he used to sneak over for a cuppa with Joyce after Buffy left for college. Willow remembered how Anya had taken care of Tara while they were on the run from Glory.

Xander’s ill fated love spell got dragged out, as did Willow’s will-be-done spell. Spike told them they should be grateful that Buffy was the forgiving sort and they readily agreed.

For one night, there was more laughter than tears in the Summers household.

###

The following week Xander went into the Magic Box after work. It looked pretty much the same as it had on the night they fought Glory. Jonathan looked up from a box he was unpacking when Xander entered.

“Xander! Did you need something? I’ve got all the weapons sharpened and put away, and we’ve got some protection charms against demonic energy that are really cool,” Jonathan gushed.

Xander was embarrassed to be greeted so enthusiastically. “Don’t need a thing. Just thought I’d drop by, see how things are going.”

Jonathan babbled in his enthusiasm. “Well, things are a little slow right now. We’ve had a little problem with some amulets disappearing. Nothing too expensive or dangerous but we’re putting in some security cameras all the same. Besides, we expect business to pick up in September. Mr. Giles says sales really pick up once the school year starts.”

“You’ll probably have a run on those protection charms. Or you will if the kids know what’s good for them.” Xander leaned against the counter. “So, how about you? Life treating you OK?”

Jonathan seemed surprised Xander would strike up a conversation with him. It was a barrier Xander wanted to tear down.

After catching up with him on the sci fi and comics scenes, Xander went into the store room. He stared at the boxes lining the walls. He took one with Anya’s name scrawled on it down and started to go through it.

###

He didn’t get through many boxes that first week. Too many items evoked strong memories. Strange things, like mugs or fingernail polish would set him into a tailspin, and he’d close the box and head home. A bottle of tea rose perfume was the worst. Anya had been wearing that perfume the day she told him she’d figured out sex was about creating life.

He remembered how panicked the discussion had made him. For a moment he’d been certain she was going to tell him she was pregnant. Then she’d laughed, allayed his fears and given an explanation of the intertwined nature of life and death which had taken his breath away. That was the day he put a down payment on the engagement ring because he couldn’t imagine growing old without her.

It was two weeks before he could go back to the shop after unearthing that bottle of perfume.

###

Giles began Willow’s magical instruction the day after “the wake.” At first, Willow was petulant about being treated like a beginner, but it wasn’t long before she got immersed in the academic aspects of the subject and they both started enjoying their sessions together.

New life was entering Giles’s eyes. Now that he had an eager student to train, and a protégé at that, he spent hours coming up with lessons that would challenge the young witch. It made the rest of them breathe a sigh of relief, confident that Willow wasn’t going to go off the rails again.

Then one day Xander came home to find Willow working on the Buffybot. She was probing the bot’s head with some kind of electronic thingamajig.

“Whatcha doing, Wills?” Xander asked, trying to sound nonchalant. The bot gave him the creeps.

“I think I can get her working again,” she said. She was intent on her work and didn’t see the shudder that went through him.

“You sure you want to play Dr. Frankenstein with this thing?”

Willow laid down the probe she’d been holding and looked up at him. “Xander, just how long do you think we can maintain the illusion that Buffy isn’t dead?”

“Hadn’t really thought about it.” This was, in fact, the absolute truth. He’d steadfastly avoided thinking about it.

“Well, if I can get Buffybot working well enough she can go to parent-teacher conferences, she could even patrol.” She was bouncing in her zeal.

“It’s a thing, Wills,” Xander insisted. “It’s not Buffy.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Where the joy of scientific discovery had been a moment before there was now the tears of a grieving woman. Xander felt like an utter heel. “I failed her when it counted. The best I can do now is to protect the people she loved.”

Off of Xander’s confused look she said, “Social Services will be sending someone around to evaluate the situation eventually. They need to see Buffy being a model parent. Hell, they need to see Buffy period. We can’t keep pretending they just missed her without arousing suspicion.”

Spike came striding into the room at this point. The sight of the Buffybot stopped him dead in his tracks. “What is that thing doing out here,” he growled. His eyes flashed yellow for a moment.

Willow turned on him as if he was a tomcat she needed to swat for peeing in the house. “We need her. It’s only a matter of time before someone decides Buffy is some kind of absentee guardian. They aren’t taking Dawn away from us. It’s the only thing I can do for Buffy, and I’m damn well going to do it.”

Spike stared at her, then stared at the bot’s disembodied head with a pained expression. Finally, he said, “Fine, but you wipe Warren’s programming out of it.”

“Well, not all of it,” Willow turned back to her work. Enjoyment started seeping back into her voice. “There was some pretty decent combat programming in here.”

“Wills, I don’t think it’s the combat skills he’s talking about,” Xander suggested.

“Oh,” Willow said quietly as the light dawned. “I’m planning on upgrading her programming pretty significantly. Personality-wise if nothing else. I’ve kept some stuff from the Ted robot that I think may help. But I don’t know if I’ll be able to completely erase the sexbot stuff.”

“Just do it. It would hardly be acting like Buffy if it fawned all over me, now would it?”

Xander didn’t like the despair that was radiating from Spike and decided a strategic withdrawal was in order. “Well, I don’t think either of us can be much help to you here. C’mon Spike, let’s put that vampire strength to good use downstairs.”

Spike grumbled but followed him back to the basement.

The renovation had been going pretty well. The bathroom was framed and the plumbing and wiring had been completed. The project had become more expensive when they found out new pipes were needed for the rest of the house as well. Xander counted himself lucky it had been found before the basement flooded and soldiered on.

Spike had continued to slip Xander money every week, sometimes a couple hundred, often more. It provided enough of a supplement that Xander decided to do the full splurge on the bathroom. There was a huge Jacuzzi tub and shower stall in addition to the more standard toilet and sink. He was shamelessly using Spike for grunt labor. It helped that Spike could hold up a heavy piece of wood or drywall without breathing hard, or breathing at all if it came to that, while Xander secured it in place. It had really helped when they’d positioned the tub.

“You think putting the bot back together is a good idea?” Spike asked out of nowhere. They were finishing dropping the ceiling and he was holding a full sheet of drywall over his head while standing on one ladder while Xander stood on the other ladder, securing it in place with the screwgun.

Shocked that Spike wanted his opinion on the matter, Xander blurted out, “Honestly, I think we’re going to have to do something along that line soon. We can only get away with the shell game we’ve been playing for so long.”

Spike contemplated this. “Don’t suppose we could keep people from asking questions for the next three years at that.”

Xander nodded and continued working. There really wasn’t anything to say about it. Willow was right. There wasn’t any arguing with her logic. Then again, there usually wasn’t.

“One of us is going to have to break it to the Lil Bit, and I’d just as soon it wasn’t me. She’ll likely put a brave face on it, but it’s going to be hell having that thing impersonating Buffy.”

There was no arguing with that logic either. It went without saying that having the Buffybot active was going to be hard on more than just Dawn.

Chapter Eight

As it turned out, Dawn walked in on Willow’s repair job, which meant Willow got to explain the logic behind reactivating the Buffybot. Dawn was not pleased. Nothing was going to make her pleased with the arrangement, and so, eventually, she was told it was going to happen whether she liked it or not. Her retaliation was to refuse to remain in the same room as the bot, which meant she spent a great deal of time in her room. Fortunately, this self enforced exile didn’t survive more than a week.

Life settled into a routine over the next few weeks. Spike patrolled with one or two of the others for a few hours every night. Things were pretty quiet and, even if it was the calm before the storm, they were grateful for the break.

Willow worked on the Buffybot. Reattaching the head and getting the bot operational only took a week or two, but it still had the same plastic personality as before. While this was annoying, it was nothing compared to what happened whenever it caught sight of Spike. Apparently, that “straddle Spike” programming was pretty deeply embedded because its eyes would light up, the smile would get huge, and it would start fawning on him as if he were Elvis. Spike would snarl at Willow and retreat to the basement.

Even though Spike’s reaction to the bot was the strongest, interacting with it was hardly a piece of cake for any of them. The bot would try to be tender with Dawn, and it was obviously a strain on the girl to endure this plastic Barbie doll claiming to be her sister. Giles tried to maintain a professional detachment as he put the bot through its paces, but there was strain around his eyes. It gave Xander the creeps, and Tara just looked sad and sympathetic. Willow seemed able to slip into mad scientist mode and react to its too cutesy dialogue like she was gathering data points. Probably she was. To her, the bot was a puzzle, a scientific challenge, and the fact that it wore Buffy’s face didn’t seem to bother her.

Eventually, she and Giles declared the bot ready to help with patrol. Spike refused to patrol with it so the rest of them took turns.

When Xander’s turn came, he learned that Willow had tried to upgrade the bot’s database. Having random facts like, “you’re a construction foreman,” or “you’re Willow’s best friend” or worst of all “Your girlfriend died last May” spewed at him was distracting to say the least. The robocidal thoughts it engendered made it hard to concentrate.

“Could we not talk about Anya, please?” he asked the oblivious bot.

“But friends are supposed to talk about upsetting subjects, Willow said so,” she perked.

“Yeah, well I’ll be having a talk about that with Willow when we get back,” he replied through clenched teeth.

Later, when two vampires attacked them, he told himself he hung back only to observe the bot’s responses to a real combat experience. He didn’t believe himself, but he figured it would be a good cover if he needed to bring it home in pieces.

It didn’t have Buffy’s grace and the quips sounded as canned as they, in fact, were, but it managed to dust both vamps with minimal damage to itself. Xander contained his disappointment, but it wasn’t easy.

###

Willow was desperate to get the bot presentable by the time school started. There was a parent/teacher meeting that all incoming freshman were required to attend, and Willow was determined Dawn would go accompanied by her legal guardian. She kept the bot active practically all the time she was home trying to fine tune it for this challenging task. Consequently, Dawn was spending more time at Janice’s house, and no one could find it in their heart to object. Spike and Xander spent all their free time going full bore on their project downstairs, just to stay out of the thing’s way, which meant that the basement was very nearly finished.

When Xander had first put him to work floating and taping while he finished the cabinets, he’d figured Spike would purposely do a bad job to get out of the tedious work. Instead, he got work he knew to be actually superior to his own. Xander could labor all day on one cabinet door, but he tended to slather on the mud and just sand it down after. Spike acted like he was creating a finished product.

“You do realize we’re just going to paint over that right?”

Spike gave him the “obviously you’re mentally deficient” eyebrow and didn’t answer him. Xander just shrugged and continued on the cabinet door he was staining. He wondered if the comfortable companionship they had going could survive wallpapering.

###

At last, the fateful day of the parent/teacher conference arrived, and Xander came home early on the off chance they would have to grab Dawn and run after the bot was discovered.

When he entered the bot was all smiles, as usual. Dawn was on the verge of tears.

Xander dropped to one knee in front of the girl. “Dawn, what happened? Did, did anyone notice?”

“No!” she shouted. “They loved her! I bet they name a building after her.”

That was all he got out of her before she broke away and charged upstairs. The bot looked after her in confusion. Xander found himself moved to pat the bot’s knee. “You did good. This means we’ll get to keep Dawn.”

“I’m Dawn’s legal guardian,” she said brightly. “No one will take Dawn away from me.”

Xander nodded and headed for the kitchen. He wanted to tell Spike the immediate danger was over.

He found Spike fidgeting at the kitchen table. “You heard?”

“Yeah. Tryin’ to decide if I can go after her, or if she needs her bloody “space” this time as well.”

Xander wished he had an answer for the frustrated vampire. The ways of teenage girls hadn’t gotten any less mysterious than they’d been when he used to date them.

“Can’t hurt to try. Worst she can do is scream and throw us out of her room.”

A grin tugged at Xander’s mouth. As grown up as Dawn thought she was, it was good to know she could still be childish. Solemn Dawn had been a little scary.

Spike arched an eyebrow at him. “You think it’s a good idea to double team her?”

“Hey, we team up, I think we can take her.”

They sneaked past the bot and up to Dawn’s room. Spike rapped on it. “Dawn, you going to talk to us?”

The door opened and Spike and Xander exchanged a brief look before they stepped inside to find Dawn sitting on her bed, head down.

Spike crouched in front of her. “Niblet, you all right?”

“They liked it,” she whispered. “They couldn’t stand Buffy but they liked …”

The rest of the words were muffled as both men hugged her at once. It was bad enough for the person you loved to be gone, infinitely worse to have people prefer a soulless, plastic replacement.

###

Jonathan didn’t help them patrol, but he was taken into their confidence. He was very good at glamours, and he had helped them come up with a few strategies to cover the fact that Buffy was dead. He was no slouch at research either.

Their confidence paid off, shortly after the school year started, when Jonathan informed them of a threat from an unexpected quarter.

Jonathan looked pretty uncomfortable holding the floor and kept shifting from foot to foot as he spoke.

“I’m part of a D&D group on Monday nights. The roster changes, but the main guys are me, Andrew Wells and Warren Mears. Last Monday, Warren asked Andrew and me if we wanted to help him take over Sunnydale. We both said yeah. I kinda thought he was joking, but then, yesterday, we met in the basement of his parent’s house, and he had all this stuff. Plans to summon a demon to rob a bank, stuff like that.”

“Warren Mears?” Willow repeated. “That name sounds awfully familiar.”

“Course it does, Will,” Spike said from his perch on the counter. “It’s Robotboy.”

“Someone of his abilities could represent a considerable threat,” Giles agreed.

“But who’s this Andrew guy?” asked Xander.

Jonathan looked like he’d anticipated this question. “Tucker’s brother.” Everyone nodded their comprehension and Jonathan rolled his eyes. “He’s really good at demon summoning and he’s got this whole hero worship thing going with Warren.”

“It’s good you came to us,” Tara encouraged him. “Warren might really hurt someone.”

Jonathan stared at his feet. “Yeah, well, I tried the magic to make my life better thing a couple years ago, and it didn’t work out so well.”

“I remember,” Tara’s voice dropped a few degrees.

Jonathan winced a little. “I figured I really didn’t want to be a supervillain.”

“A wise decision,” Giles said. “This situation bears monitoring. How do you feel about being a spy?”

###

The next month flew by quickly. Jonathan told them Warren planned to rob a bank using a demon Andrew was going to summon. Giles wanted to call in the police, but Jonathan pleaded for time to pull Andrew out before that happened. He insisted Andrew wasn’t really evil, just a little mixed up.

So Willow gave him some inert powder to replace a key spell ingredient so Andrew’s summoning would fizzle. There was a faint hope that a couple of setbacks would dishearten the would-be supervillain enough that he’d pack it in, and go back to making robot girlfriends or something.

The household drifted apart a bit as Willow, Tara and Dawn started a new semester. Work on the Buffybot wasn’t as intensive, but it didn’t stop altogether. Avoidance of the disturbing presence drove a wedge into the group.

But togetherness was found for the Magic Box’s Halloween Sale. By the time the door was closed behind the last customer, Xander was convinced demons didn’t take the day off, they used it to go shopping en masse. There was no way that mob was all human. He lay on the floor, thinking it was remarkably comfortable, and determined he wasn’t moving for a week.

“See you tomorrow,” Dawn said as she headed for the door.

Xander dragged his memory for where Dawn could be going. Then he remembered that she was spending the night with Janice. She made good her getaway just before Giles handed out brooms to the rest of them while he went to review the security tapes while he reconciled the receipts.

They were just finishing the clean up when Giles came out of the back with a furious expression. “Jonathan, I believe we have identified our thief.”

Then he turned to Tara. “Do you have Janice’s number?”

Tara started digging in her purse. “Are you sure, Mr. Giles? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Janice in here.”

“It’s not Janice. It’s Dawn,” he said flatly. He took the offered phone number and began dialing.

“That little minx. Have to give her a right good talking to. You don’t steal from family, fine if she wants to nick something from the mall, but—“

“Stop right there, Spike,” Xander insisted, suddenly feeling even more tired. “I think we’ll handle the moral development side of things.”

“Just stands to reason,” Spike muttered.

Giles’s indignant voice broke through their argument. “She what?”

All attention was now riveted on his phone conversation. “Well, you might have checked as well….Yes, we’ll let you know if we hear from either of them.” He hung up the phone and addressed the waiting group. “It seems Janice informed her mother she was spending the night with Dawn.”

“Ya gotta respect them sticking to the classics,” Xander said. Inside he was ready to kick himself for falling for such a tired, old trick. Sure, it had worked for years on his and Willow’s parents, but they were striving to be better than those poor examples. They split up searching for likely places to find their wayward charge. Giles attempted to reassure them that, tonight of all nights, Dawn was safer than usual on the Hellmouth.

“Because nothing ever happens on Halloween?” Xander said sarcastically. “Unless you count possession by costume, or fear demons, or—“

“Point made,” Giles responded wearily.

They planned to search separately for an hour then rendezvous at the park next to the woods where teens went to make out. They weren’t sure what they would do if they found her there.

Xander had pulled hospital duty. It went without saying he hoped someone else found her. He checked with the nurse if anyone matching Dawn’s description had been brought in. While she checked for him, he toured the waiting rooms. Negative on all fronts, so it was with some relief that he headed for Make Out Point, telling himself one of the others had surely found her by now.

What he didn’t expect to find was a full-fledged vampire battle. Giles had arrived before him, and he was being pressed by two vampires over a car. Xander staked one of them, which gave Giles room to dispatch his other assailant. He scanned the area, searching for Dawn and thought he spotted her being dragged into the woods by a vampire. He was sprinting after her before he had time for another thought.

He lost sight of them in the woods and had to slow down. He couldn’t bear the thought he might run right past her in the dark. It seemed like he stumbled around in the dark for hours, although his watch later informed him it was more like five minutes, before he heard Dawn’s voice. He went crashing through the underbrush, abandoning stealth for speed. As he neared her he caught glimpses of a vampire on top of Dawn, going into game face and leaning down for the bite. Another vampire tackled him from the side. Xander managed to twist around, using the vamp’s own momentum to impale him on the stake. Xander crashed into the clearing to find Dawn clutching a pencil and crying like her heart was broken.

“Dawn. Are you hurt?”

Xander helped her up and she shook her head, biting her lip to keep from crying more.

“Come on,” he urged. Giles could have died in the time he’d spent haring after Dawn.

Dawn managed to keep up with him, and Xander breathed a huge sigh of relief when he returned to where he’d left Giles to see Spike dispatching a vampire while Giles leaned against a parked car.

“Giles! I’m sorry, I saw this guy with Dawn and I just--“

Giles gave him a smile that warmed him to his toes. “Perfectly understandable, Xander.” The smile went vacationing in some artic region. “I see you’ve retrieved our runaway.”

Dawn pulled the letterman jacket she wore more tightly around herself.

“Xander, call Willow and Tara, we can discuss this back at the house.”

Xander was very glad for the cell phones right now. He didn’t want to wait around for more rebel demons to show up. “How many vamps were there?” he asked Spike as he dialed.

“Rupert only left me a couple. Doubt anyone’s making an army out of this sorry lot.”

Xander nodded. He trusted Spike’s assessment of the threat. Willow answered her cell and his attention was diverted. “We have Dawn retrieval. Meet you back at the house?”

“She okay?”

“Seems to be, just a little shaken up.” He grinned as if she could see him. “Probably dreading the lecture she’s about to get.”

“Want me to call Tara?”

“Yeah. Things are weird over here. I think we’re in for a long night.” He cut the connection before she could ask him anything else.

Giles led the way back to the house, back stiff with anger and to hide the slight limp as he walked. Spike moved up to Dawn, obviously eager to determine if she were all right. She shrank away from him and hurried up closer to Giles.

Spike was stopped, staring after Dawn as if he’d been slapped. Xander hooked Spike’s arm as he passed him.

“She had to stake a vamp tonight. I’m pretty sure it’s her first time. She’s bound to be jumpy,” Xander reassured. It was little enough but Spike moved forward again.

“Sure. That must be it.” Spike sounded fairly unconvinced. Xander wasn’t so sure himself but he wanted to have the conversation with all of them safe at home, not out on the street, so he said nothing.

Chapter Nine

There was a scramble when they reached the house. Giles got an ice pack for his bruised jaw. Xander offered to give him the full post-battle first aid check over, but was refused. Giles didn’t want to delay resolving the situation with Dawn.

Willow and Tara got home and wanted to know what happened. Spike filled them in as best he could while Dawn sat silently on a dining room chair, with the letterman jacket folded neatly in her lap.

When they all assembled back in the living room, Dawn looked like a defendant on trial in her straight-backed chair with the rest of them arranged on the couch and chair around her.

“Quite honestly I do not know where to begin.” Giles paced like a prosecutor in front of Dawn, who didn’t look up. “You steal from the Magic Box, you lie to us about your whereabouts. Have you anything to say for yourself?”

“I stole from all of you.” She spoke softly, as if her mind were elsewhere.

Tara leaned forward at this. “My ring?”

Dawn nodded and continued in that same disinterested voice. “Money from Xander, a necklace from Willow, some stuff from the stores downtown. It’s all in the jewelry box in my room. I’ve been stealing from you all for months now, and I’m so invisible that none of you noticed.”

“Can’t tell me I’ve been ignoring you, Niblet.” Spike insisted and moved to touch her shoulder. “What did you take from me?”

Dawn flinched away and Spike drew back. “I’ve got a couple of those ugly silver rings you used to wear. You can have them back.”

Spike moved back to sit on the arm of the couch and remained silent. Xander wondered at the vagaries of teenage girl affections. If this was a permanent shift he wasn’t sure Spike could survive it.

Giles recaptured the floor, disapproval pouring off of him in waves as he pinned her with a withering glare. “You do realize that if you were caught shoplifting there is every chance Social Services would take you out of our custody.”

Willow, predictably enough, was trying to ratchet the emotional explosion down. “Dawn, we all love you, and we’re not mad.”

“The hell we’re not!” Giles shouted.

“Dawn, Giles was nearly killed tonight because we spread out looking for you.” Xander knew it was a guilt trip but, given the lack of remorse Dawn was showing, felt it was warranted.

“Which just proves my point,” she responded.

“I would dearly love to hear this,” Giles said as if he’d eaten something extremely sour.

Dawn stared back at Giles, a look of cold resignation on her face. “I’m nothing but a burden. Something you look after because of Buffy. I have no place, no purpose. Everyone would be happier if I just evaporated.”

“How can you say that, Dawnie? How could you even think it?” Willow was in enough distress at the suggestion that Tara’s attention was turned to comforting her rather than the scolding teen.

Giles looked very much like he was considering whether to use a rod or a paddle on the unrepentant girl. Xander was pretty sure that either would only cement her resentment. He was afraid Giles would be too hard on her, and the witches would go too easy. Spike looked broken. He guessed it was up to him to try for a middle ground.

“Well, you’re acting like a burden tonight.” He tried for a forbidding tone but wasn’t sure he pulled it off. “You’ll get to see a lot more of us for the next two weeks. You’re grounded. You come straight home from school, no sleepovers, no hanging with friends.”

“Whatever,” was the uninspiring response to this pronouncement.

“Go bring down the box with everyone’s things,” Tara said.

Dawn headed up to her room still clutching the jacket. A quick look told Xander that everyone was going to back up his punishment.

“I think a month would be more appropriate,” Giles said with a trace of petulance.

“At that age, two weeks is an eternity,” Tara reminded Giles.

Dawn returned bearing the jewelry box Xander had made for her. She opened it and set it on the coffee table. It was full of jewelry, amulets, and drugstore cosmetics. “That’s everything. I’ll just go to my room.”

Giles, Willow and Tara went through the box pulling out various pilfered items. Xander suspected he would not find his missing money in there. He was just glad he wasn’t going crazy. He’d been worried when money kept evaporating from his wallet. He noticed Spike slipping away and nudged Willow.

“I think Spike could use a friendly ear. Dawn really did a number on him tonight.” Willow nodded her understanding, and Xander headed up to Dawn’s room. This wasn’t over by a long shot.

He was sufficiently put out with the girl that he didn’t bother knocking. He stepped into Dawn’s room and shut the door behind him. He leaned against the doorjamb, emphasizing the fact that she had no choice but to talk to him. She barely looked up from her seat on the bed. Her bedside lamp was the room’s only illumination.

“So, care to tell me what happened out there tonight?”

“Really don’t.”

“Tough.” He didn’t move an inch. “Let me make some guesses here. Just to get things rolling. You and Janice pull the old double blind on us and her mom, then go off to meet a couple guys from school. How am I doing so far?”

She shrugged. He eyed the jacket lying next to her on the bed. Put together with the scene he’d stumbled on in the woods it painted a very ugly picture.

“So this guy’s nice to you, lends you his jacket. Problem is he turns out to be a vampire.” He really hoped that was enough to get her talking, because he was going to stop sounding like Perry Mason in a minute.

She started crying. He’d been hoping for a burst of information but he would take what he could get. He eased down next to her, careful not to sit on the jacket, and put an arm around her. She burrowed into his shoulder, and now words mixed with the sobs. “He said I was special. I k-k-kissed him. I never kissed a boy before.”

This was bad, Xander decided. First kiss wants to eat you, he had more than a passing familiarity with that experience. It was never fun. “Take it from the expert, dating on the Hellmouth is a hazardous activity. But eventually, you meet someone who likes you for something other than your blood type, and it gets better.”

“No.” She looked up and tears tracked down her cheeks. “I liked him, and he liked me. Justin didn’t want to eat me, he wanted to turn me.”

“Oh.” While Xander was trying to process this new information she lowered the boom again.

“Just for a moment, I thought about letting him.”

Suddenly, Dawn’s responses to Spike tonight made sense. “But you staked him instead.”

The reburrowing into his shoulder and fresh spate of tears was answer enough. Xander wished he could somehow make the world a comprehensible place for her. “Heck of a lot easier when Spike was the only vampire that liked you, wasn’t it?”

She nodded into his shoulder.

This wasn’t comfortable territory. It dug up too much of the past that Xander would just as soon leave buried. Being thrown into close living quarters with Spike had made exhuming it inevitable, however. Looked like it was time to face the music.

“When you first find out the truth about the Hellmouth it seems so simple.” He stroked her hair, uncertain which of them the action was supposed to calm. “Human good, demon bad. Before long it starts getting more confusing. This vampire has a soul, your best friend starts dating a werewolf, you find yourself dating an ex-vengeance demon.”

The snort of laughter was a suitable reward, he decided. “The world isn’t black and white, Dawn. There are hard choices to make, and they aren’t clear, and sometimes you can’t take it back.”

She stopped crying and he stopped stroking her hair. Time to cut this off, or he was going to start his own crying jag. He pulled back enough to look her in the eye.

“If you give the word, Spike is gone tonight.” Xander felt the bottom drop out of his stomach at the offer he was making. He ignored the feeling. This was too important. “We’ll move him back to his crypt. Disinvite him.”

If he’d just burst out in Fyral, Dawn couldn’t have given him a stranger look. “Spike is important. He’s the best fighter you have.”

Xander wasn’t about to argue Spike’s importance to keeping a lid on the Hellmouth, that wasn’t what was at issue here. “Dawn, this is your home. You need to feel safe here, that’s more important.”

He watched her expression close down. “Great. In addition to needing to be rescued I cost us fighters. I’m a real asset.”

Kid gloves weren’t getting the job done, and so, with a hint of exasperation, he asked, “What is it you want, Dawn?”

The fierceness that shone in her face reminded him intensely of Buffy. “I want to be a member of the team rather than hostage fodder. I want to trust Spike like I did yesterday. While I’m shooting for the moon, I want my mom and sister back.”

Xander pulled away from her fiery glare. He paced in front of her to give himself a moment to process. He grabbed her desk chair and straddled it, resting his arms on the chair back. He picked his next words very carefully, he couldn’t afford to be accused of patronizing her at this point.

“I guess we’re selfish. We wanted to give you a semi-normal childhood. If we were going to do that we should have gone with Spike’s suggestion, and taken you far away from here.” He leaned forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. “What would you like to do?”

“I don’t know, but I figure being a glowing ball of green energy should be good for something other than ending the world.”

That was a nice idea. He wasn’t sure if it was true or not but finding out was Giles and Willow’s job.

“We’ll see what we can find out. Maybe you’re right. I’ll talk to Giles and Willow about it.” Having delegated how Dawn could help he got back to what he felt was his most pressing issue. “What about Spike? Do I hand him his walking papers?”

“No. He’s got the chip, after all.”

Xander nodded and turned to go. He paused at the door and asked, “Would you like to talk to him? See what he has to say about it?” He tried to make it clear the decision was entirely up to her.

He watched pain and fear and hope war for dominance on her face. “Tomorrow?”

“I’ll talk to him about it.”

Before he could quite make it out of the room Dawn called him back. “Xander?”

“Yeah, Dawn?”

“So, I’m not grounded anymore right?” Her mischievous smile reassured Xander more than anything she could have said aloud.

He smiled back. “Keep it up. We’ll hold you prisoner for a month.”

###

Xander found Willow in the kitchen brewing some tea.

“So what’s the word on the resident vamp?” He tried to sound lighthearted, but he knew he’d never be able to sleep until he was sure Spike wouldn’t do something stupid.

“He’s pretty upset. He doesn’t understand why Dawn is acting the way she is, and I couldn’t really help him on that one.”

Xander leaned against the counter, facing away from her, and heaved a sigh. The night wasn’t getting any shorter.

“The world just got more complicated for Dawn tonight. She’ll feel better after she has a chance to come to grips with her world inverting.” He debated saying more.

Willow had not been his best friend since kindergarten without the ability to figure out when he had something on his mind. “So, when exactly did your world invert?”

If he couldn’t tell Willow he couldn’t tell anyone. “You remember when Giles told us that the vampire wasn’t Jesse? That it was the thing that killed Jesse?”

“Yeah.” Willow shuddered. “I was glad I didn’t have to see him vamped.”

“I did. Twice.” Now he remembered why he never talked about this. The pain felt all fresh and shiny new again. “He was still in there, Willow. He got a layer of mean and the power went to his head, but he was still making a play for Cordelia. He stopped and argued with me when he should have been lunging for my neck. I’d never fought vampires before, there was no way I should have been able to stake him like that.”

“What do you mean?” Willow’s eyes narrowed. He suspected she wanted to hear this about as much as he wanted to tell it.

“I mean that Giles lied to us. Or he fed us the Watcher party line. No soul or chip for Jesse, just the pointy end of a stake from his best friend, and I was supposed to pat myself on the back for a job well done and forget all about it.” He gritted his teeth and swallowed hard before he could continue.

“It was what, a month or two after that, we found out Angel was a vampire. Oh, but he’s got a soul, so he’s different. Only, when he misplaces it in his other pair of pants, Buffy can’t seem to remember where the stake goes. She let him go for months. She hardly knew the guy, why did he get a break when Jesse got swept up from the Bronze floor?” He realized he was coming dangerously close to screaming and stopped.

Willow had her arms around him. She tried to make soothing noises, even if they sounded more like sobbing.

“I’m sorry.” He hugged her hard, his face buried in her hair. The solid feel of her soothed his soul in a way words couldn’t. He pulled away and sank into a kitchen chair. He couldn’t afford to break down right now. There was too much still to be done tonight. “I didn’t realize I was still so mad at her about that.”

“You never told her?” Willow’s eyes looked huge from the unshed tears standing in them.

“Does acting like a bastard about Angel count?” He was trying for humorous, but he was pretty sure he slipped into pathetic instead.

“I doubt she put the two events together.” The tiniest of smiles graced her features, and he felt like he just might make it through this hellish night.

“Probably right.”

He resisted the urge to lay his head down on the table. Their bizarre little family had been dealt a critical blow tonight. If he was going to help Dawn and Spike reconcile -- and how weird was it that he was even inclined to try -- he would have to confront some of his own feelings.

“I clung to what Giles told us. It would mean I hadn’t actually staked Jesse, just some monster wearing his face. But then there was Angel, and Spike. Hell we haven’t even staked Harmony. Could anyone actually tell any difference between Harmony in high school and vamp Harmony?”

“Not really.”

Willow made a disgusted face. She’d hated Harmony since grade school, so it wasn’t the best example. Undaunted, he forged ahead to the actual point.

“I’ve hated Spike. I’ve hated him like my sanity depended on it, and you know why?”

“Because you kind of like him?” No one ever accused Willow of being slow on the uptake.

“Exactly! I can’t like a vampire! It throws the design of the universe into confusion! And yet, I have to get the vampire and the teenager talking to each other. You know how I’m going to do that?” If he yelled about it enough maybe he could convince himself it wasn’t necessary.

“You’re going downstairs to talk to Spike?” The tone of her voice let him know there was no backing out now.

“Yep. I, Xander Harris, vampire hater extraordinaire, am going down there to try to convince a vampire that the girl he adores doesn’t hate him. I’ll explain to him she’s just gotten a shock tonight and she’s confused. Then, I’m going to ask him to help me explain the whole thing to her.” He wondered how these simple little tasks seemed to fall to him so frequently. “I figure the best thing you could do for me right now is knock me unconscious.”

She shook her head, and her smile had grown until it finally reached her eyes. “Sorry Xand. I will go with you if you want though,” she offered.

“Nah. I think this is a man-to-vampire discussion. Besides, there might be unmanly displays that it would be better you didn’t see.”

“I understand.” She smirked behind her hand. “Both your images are safe with me.”

“Right. Don’t wait up.”

Then he disappeared into the basement.

Chapter Ten

“So, how much of that did you hear?” Xander said into the darkness.

“Every word. You weren’t exactly quiet.”

Spike’s voice came from the vicinity of the bed and Xander turned in that direction, hoping the slightly darker blotch he was staring at was actually Spike.

“Good, because I didn’t want to have to go through that a second time.”

Spike turned on the bedside lamp, and Xander climbed the rest of the way down the stairs. Spike was shoving clothes into a duffle bag. “So, when the going gets tough the vamp gets gone?”

“I’ll be at my old crypt. You can find me when you need help with patrol,” Spike sneered as he zipped up his case. “I’m a useful monster, but none of you want me here. Not even Dawn.”

“Well boo hoo, gonna pitch a fit and run away from home then?” Xander mocked as he pulled the duffle off the bed and tossed it to the side. “Dawn’s a teenager who’s had a very traumatic evening. What’s your excuse, mister Big Bad?”

Xander knew he was being unsympathetic, but he was too tired, and on the edge of freaking, to care at the moment.

“Dawn won’t even look at me, Harris.” The look Spike gave him made him feel like a low grade moron. “I can’t stay here.”

“Dawn doesn’t know what to feel. Before tonight, every monster that threatened her was easy to understand. They wanted to eat her, or use her against Buffy, and the lines were nice and clear. The vamp tonight liked her, wanted to turn her. Now she’s got to wonder if you want the same thing.”

Xander really hated his brain sometimes. He’d come to grips with the fact that Spike considered them his family and probably wouldn't eat them, even if the chip stopped working. What he hadn’t considered, really considered until now, was that Spike might want to make them his very own vampire family. He blocked Spike’s path to the stairs and looked at him hard. Spike stared back, fists and teeth clenched.

“Do you, Spike?” The question came out softer than he intended, but he’d lost the desire to kick Spike while he was down.

“Bleeding hell, Harris, she’s fifteen.” That “you’re an idiot” glare was still in full force. “Do you think I would condemn someone I cared about to being fifteen forever?”

That answer did nothing to satisfy Xander, and he doubted it would go far with Dawn either.

“Not to mention the little chip problem you’ve got going at the moment. I’m not naïve enough to think that thing’s going to work forever. What happens when it gives up the ghost, Spike? You planning on making yourself a new vampire gang from materials at hand?” Xander stood with arms crossed blocking Spike’s escape route. He shoved all the implacability he could into his voice but he couldn’t summon up any anger to go with it. Maybe he was just too tired.

Spike slumped onto the bed. Xander leaned against the banister, not crowding him.

“Dawn told me she felt safe with me, and I yelled at her to take it back,” Spike said tonelessly, staring at the wall. “Bleeding ironic.”

“Dawn may have taken awhile to join the caravan, but us not trusting you is hardly new territory.” It was backhanded sympathy at best, but Xander needed to get them back onto the question at hand. He needed an answer he could believe, or he’d be looking for a stake before it was too late.

Spike threw his head back and laughed, high pitched and mocking. It sent an icy tingle along Xander’s skin.

“You’ve always trusted me. The whole lot of you.” Spike’s voice was shaky with laughter verging on tears.

“Huh?” Was the most intelligent comment Xander could come up with to such a ridiculous statement.

Spike turned red-rimmed eyes on him. “Oh, not up here.” Spike held a finger to his temple like he was about to shoot himself in the head. “In the gut.” His other hand jabbed a fist into his stomach. “Where it counts.”

Xander straightened in shock and stared at the obviously deranged vampire. “What could possess you to believe we ever trusted you?”

Frustration replaced grief on Spike’s face. He began counting things off on his fingers. “The night we took down Angelus, Buffy waltzed right out of the room to call you. Left me all alone with her mum and little sis.”

Another finger raised.

“When I came back to Sunnydale the first time, I strolled into this house easy as you please. No disinvite.”

“We didn’t think you were coming back,” Xander insisted.

“What, trusted my word on that, did you?” Spike’s smile wasn’t pleasant as he raised a third finger. “Fine, who did Buffy take her mum and sis to for safekeeping?”

Xander figured there were reasons for that as well but didn’t want to interrupt again. He gave looming a try. The quicker they finished with this strange fantasy of Spike’s, the quicker they could get to the real issue.

“Not convinced, are you?” Spike’s snide tone grated on Xander’s already raw nerves. “Let’s cut to the chase shall we? If you didn’t trust me, you’d have dusted me the minute I found out Dawn was the Key. Tell me, did any of you even suggest it? Have one of your little Scooby meetings about it?”

Xander had to consciously close his gaping mouth. In fact, none of them had even given it a second thought. They’d all known it was a secret to be guarded with their lives, and yet Spike knowing had never even warranted a comment.

“Thought not,” Spike nodded, secure in his reasoning, or possibly Xander’s gobsmacked expression. “If you’d talked about it, I’d be dust. Logic would have told you a soulless, evil thing could never be trusted with that kind of information. But your gut knew better.”

Xander wondered if he could get whiplash from the number of mental jolts he was getting tonight. Regardless, he had to get back on topic.

“Okay. I’ll have a nervous breakdown about that later. But I need to know--“

“No.” Spike slumped back in on himself, he seemed smaller. “Not planning on turning any of you.”

Xander found himself disappointed. Weren’t they good enough to keep around? Then what he was thinking actually penetrated his brain and he had to grab the banister to keep from sinking to his knees in shock. He had no desire to be a vampire, even now when two super strong fighters would be a real asset. He should be jumping for joy, not like the only one without a date to the prom. He stomped on his traitorous emotions. “Why not?” Xander told himself it was disbelief that laced the question.

“Turning’s a crap shoot. Demon could be weak, leave your personality pretty intact, or it could completely consume you. No way to know for sure. Most vampires turn someone they like the looks of. If it doesn’t work out they stake or abandon ‘em and try again. Would have happened to Dru an’ me ‘cept Dru’s visions were handy, and I was useful for looking after her.”

Spike stared at nothing once again.

“Would have done it, back before keeping a bunch of human children alive became my reason for existing.” He let loose a self-deprecating chuckle.

Xander’s body moved without any consultation with his brain. Maybe it was that gut over brains stuff Spike had been talking about. Without being sure how it happened, he found his arms wrapped around Spike.

“We’ll make it all right. She’ll understand, we just need to let her get her head straight tonight.” He didn’t know if the words were getting through, but his tone must have been. Spike’s head fell to his shoulder as he collapsed against Xander’s chest. There were a few hitched breaths, like the unbreathing vamp was trying to get enough air. Then he felt the dampness on his shoulder and realized Spike was sobbing. Xander had never had a man use him as a comfortador before, but the principle was the same. He avoided the over-gelled hair, instead, concentrating on rubbing Spike’s back and murmuring promises in his ear.

As he held Spike, he thought his brain might just be catching up with his gut. Mentally, he went over what he owed the vampire. Xander was quite certain that, without Spike’s intervention, he would have returned to the clearing with Dawn to find Giles dead and a reception committee of hungry vampires. Spike and he had been patrolling together long enough that there were at least half a dozen instances where Spike had pulled his fat out of the fire. In fact, most of the people Xander loved had been rescued by Spike in various ways at one time or another. It was a debt he could never repay.

He realized he meant every soothing word he was whispering in the distraught blond’s ear. Spike was part of his family.

###

The next day Xander made sure he was home before Dawn returned from school. Spike had to talk to her, but that didn’t mean he had to do it alone.

Lunch had been spent on the cell to Willow and then Giles. He’d explained that part of Dawn’s problem was she didn’t feel she contributed anything to the group. Willow was excited at the idea of Dawn’s Key power (if such a thing still existed) being put to practical use. Giles was eager to give her a workload substantial enough to keep her out of trouble.

Xander was afraid he’d arrive at the house with a van full of ancient texts for Dawn to work her way through. Still, if she was going to find her niche she needed to sample all the flavors on offer.

He wanted to talk to Spike about some of Dawn’s other options before she made it home.

“Spike!” he called as soon as he walked through the door. “Where are you?”

“I can hear you,” Spike grumbled as he emerged from the kitchen. “What are you doing home? S’not even 3 o’clock.”

“I want to talk to you about training Dawn.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Train her to do what?”

“What you do best.” Xander threw himself on the couch, a little smile playing about his mouth. “Fight.”

“No.” Spike answered with the finality of a judge’s gavel.

“Look, I know you don’t want her patrolling. Neither do I. But sometimes the combat zone comes to her. Might be a good idea if she knew how to defend herself.”

He could tell he’d hit a nerve when Spike looked like he’d tasted something bitter.

“If she gets trained she’s going to want to go on patrol.”

“She wants to go on patrol now. What’s the difference?”

Spike leaned on the arm of the couch and into Xander’s face. “If she thinks she can handle herself, she’ll take stupid chances instead of running away.”

Xander knew he was being infuriating, and it just made him smile wider. “Nope, Bleach brain. She’s as suicidal as the rest of us. She’s not going to run whether she has the training or not.”

When intimidation gained him nothing, Spike straightened and folded his arm across his chest. “You just have all the answers, don’t you?”

Xander was feeling smug. He didn’t get to win arguments with Spike often. Each one was a special cause for celebration.

“Been thinking about it all day. I’ve got Giles set up to show her the joys of being a watcher. That should take five minutes. Willow’s going to show her witchy ways. You get the fighting.”

The speculative look Spike got in his eye started Xander worrying.

“Long as I’m teaching the Bit, might as well do you as well.”

“Hey, I’ve been doing this for five years.” Xander was touchy enough about his fighting ability not to want to hear Spike’s comments on it.

“Ya haven’t done bad, for not having anyone teach you. Don’t know what Rupert was thinking. Could have at least shown you how to use a spear or something.”

“I think he kept hoping I’d stay fray adjacent.”

Spike smirked at him. “That was effective.”

“Hey, I’ve got a hard head, which has served me well in more than one combat situation.” Xander relaxed at the lack of criticism. Of course, if he agreed to train with Spike he was guaranteed of getting belittled at every session. “So, when do we start?”

“Got big plans for tonight?”

“I guess I do now.”

“You and Spike going out on a date?” Dawn asked incredulously from just inside the door.

“That depends,” Xander asked with a sly grin. “Does it count as a date if we ask you along?”

She eyed them both warily, not coming any closer. Xander abandoned humor as a tactic as it clearly wasn’t working.

“I just asked Spike to train you in fighting, and he offered to include me on the lessons.”

Now that he thought of it, the arrangement might just make Dawn a little more comfortable. He wondered if Spike was maneuvering him into being a buffer between them.

Dawn was clearly conflicted. Being allowed to fight was a big carrot, but she and Spike had unresolved issues. A quick glance at Spike confirmed the wariness went both ways. He hadn’t moved an inch and seemed content to let Xander handle the conversation. Their relationship’s foundation had a few cracks in it but, if he could get them talking, he was willing to bet it was still sound.

“Right. Basement. Both of you.”

The double indignant stares made him rethink his role as their mutual target.

“We need to have this out, and if we stay here we’ll get interrupted,” he explained. He got up and shooed them both toward the basement. They went, casting unsure looks his way.

Xander perched on the washer and waited for them to arrange themselves. Dawn sat on the edge of the recliner, Spike on the foot of the bed. Both of them were avoiding eye contact. He was going to have to drag them bodily through this conversation.

“Dawn, I’ve talked to Giles and Willow. You’ll be researching and spellcasting in no time.” Dawn perked up. “Little spells,” he hastened to add. “Levitating pencils, meditation, that sort of thing. We’re planning to put you to work. You may regret ever asking to be a full-fledged Scooby.”

“No, that’s great,” she assured him. “I want to help. I’m thinking I might start learning a language, like Sumerian or something. I bet I can pick it up pretty fast.”

Xander blinked at her enthusiasm. She’d be the perfect protégé for Willow and Giles. This was a side of her he didn’t understand at all.

“Good. Giles is the best person to get you started on that dead language thingy. Meanwhile, Spike’s the best one to teach you fighting, and he can’t do that if you aren’t talking to each other.”

Spike looked at his hands. Dawn glanced around the basement avoiding looking at either of them. Xander heaved a sigh.

“Dawn, Spike and I talked last night.” Oh good, now she was glaring at him. At least she was paying attention. “I trust him. Apparently, I always have.”

Spike’s head snapped up. He looked surprised Xander had used the words. Xander figured it was time they quit pussyfooting around.

“Maybe,” Xander said, “it would help if you told him what you’re afraid of.”

Dawn bit her bottom lip for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Then she openly stared at Spike. Spike winced under her regard.

“Why do you like me?”

That question came from left field as far as Xander was concerned. Spike seemed thrown by it as well.

“You’re like your mum.” Mentioning Joyce softened Spike’s face, he looked wistful. “You treat me like I’m more than a useful monster. Leastways you did before yesterday.”

“That’s it?” Dawn was less than satisfied with the answer.

“It’s a bloody stupid question! Why do you love Tara? Why do you love Xander? I love you because you’re my Lil’ Bit. If you want a soddin’ diagram ask Rupert. I can’t give you one.” Spike’s voice was laced with frustration and pain. Xander suspected that Dawn hadn’t realized just how much she had shredded Spike.

Dawn stared at Spike as if she was assessing his sincerity. Then she nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Spike and Xander exclaimed simultaneously.

“Yeah.” She looked at them both as if they were stupid. She went over to Spike and threw her arms around his neck. “When do we start the fighting training?”

“Tonight, after your homework.” Spike seemed to be answering out of reflex.

Dawn disappeared upstairs.

“Um, yay?” Xander said.

Spike laughed so hard he fell back onto the bed.

Chapter 11

Xander finished up the grouting in the bathroom. Once it cured he’d declare it operational. He was tempted to delay telling the girls it was almost good to go. If he didn’t sneak in before they knew, he suspected he and Spike would be the last to taste the fruits of their labor. Then again, giving Dawn first crack might dispel any left over animosity. He surveyed their work and was pleased. He’d insisted on a huge mirror covering most of one wall. Spike had grumbled but it made the modest sized space appear huge. He’d sprung for a gi-normous water heater to fill the two person Jacuzzi tub, and he wasn’t thinking of Willow and Tara in that tub, really he wasn’t.

He took particular pride in the cabinets. He’d invested many hours in the hard to carve walnut, and he had loved every minute of it. Feeling the wood take shape under his hands had been glorious.

He stretched and returned to the basement room. There were still things he wanted to do in here. Eventually he wanted to enclose the washer and dryer in their own little room to cut down on the noise, possibly build a big closet next to it for storage. For the moment though, it looked finished. Once he was talked out of more lurid colors, Spike had agreed to ivory paint on the walls. Xander regretted that cost and practicality resulted in the floor being a laminate that mimicked a wood floor instead of actual wood. Still, it gave the space a warm, lived in feel that went well with the new furnishings.

Xander’s musings were interrupted by Spike coming back downstairs. “Finished already?”

“Yeah, wasn’t that much to it.” A mischievous grin spread across his face. “Want to sneak in a shower before we tell the girls?”

“Tempting, but we’ll be paying for it years from now, and you know it.”

Spike’s logic was irrefutable. Didn’t mean he didn’t think about it. “So how’d the homework go?”

“History paper finished, and if she doesn’t get an A I’ll eat the teacher.”

“You do realize just how disturbing that image is, right?”

“Hey, I’m sacrificing here. Give me a hell of a migraine it would.” It was good to see Spike grin in that semi-evil way of his. Being back in Dawn’s good graces meant the world to him, anyone could see that. “Best get upstairs and eat your dinner. Rupert’s having his go at the Lil’ Bit. Soon as he’s finished we’ll start your first combat lesson.”

With a jaunty salute he climbed back up to the kitchen. Tara was puttering at the stove when he entered. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “So, what’s for dinner?”

“Stroganoff sound good?” She stepped aside to reveal a steaming pan.

Xander grabbed a plate. “Load me up. I have a feeling I’m going to need my strength.”

Tara giggled and dished up the meal. “I think Spike plans to put you through your paces.”

“I take solace in the fact that if he hurts me, he gets a headache.” He procured a Coke and tucked into his dinner. “You know, I’ve fought him before, without the chip.”

Tara’s eyes widened in amazement. “I didn’t know.”

“Oh yeah, twice.” Xander nodded sagely. “Well, in the sense I was swatted aside like an annoying bug but, hey, lived to tell about it.”

That earned him a fresh bout of Tara giggles, and he considered himself well rewarded. He hadn’t felt this good since before the final battle with Glory. He was very careful not to voice those sentiments lest he jinx them.

Half an hour later he was back downstairs. Spike had pulled out a couple of old training mats and spread them in the middle of the floor. Dawn was practically vibrating with the focused attention she’d gotten tonight.

Spike rubbed his hands together as if he was about to cause serious damage. Xander tried to remember the last time he’d seen the chip activate. “Right, children. Start with the basics, shall we?”

“Cool! Where’re the swords?” Dawn was bouncing on her toes as she looked around for weaponry.

“Safely packed away. You’re learning to fall tonight.”

“Think I’ve got that covered,” Xander grumbled. He was all too acquainted with landing on his posterior.

Before he could offer any further protest, Spike hefted him like a sack of potatoes and flung him at the mat, where he landed with all the grace of that selfsame sack of potatoes.

Spike growled and pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead like he was trying to hold his brains in.

“Serves you right,” Xander said indignantly. He rolled slowly to his feet and rubbed at his offended backside.

Dawn sniggered at the both of them, then squealed when she found herself deposited hard next to Xander.

She scowled. “That wasn’t fair, I wasn’t ready.”

Spike shook off his discomfort and began his critique. “You really think the monsters are going to give you fair warning? That’s why you need to learn. You need to be able to use the momentum of the fall to roll yourself back to your feet. Lying all sprawled out like that you’re a perfect target for a follow up attack.”

He motioned Xander over. “I’ll give you a thrill, lackbrain. Throw me over there, like I just did to you.”

Dawn scurried out of the way. Xander hefted Spike up with far more difficulty than was good for his manly ego and threw him at the mat. Spike barely touched the mat before he did a shoulder roll that resulted in him standing back on his feet in a crouch.

“I still say it isn’t fair,” Dawn insisted. “You’ve got those vampire reflex thingies.”

“So have most of the things you’re likely to fight,” Spike countered. He turned to make his point to Xander. “You’ve been lucky. Fighting with the slayer, the bad guys would knock you down then turn their attention to the real threat. You get a few seconds to get yourself back into the fight. If you’re caught alone, or perceived as a threat, you get knocked on your ass and you’re lunch.”

Xander squinted at Spike. “Can you show me that fall again, a little slower?”

###

They took the next day off to recover from their bruises. Xander felt modestly optimistic about his progress. Spike still flung him about like a rag doll, but he was recovering his feet pretty quickly by the end of the lesson.

A cloud appeared in his sunny sky when Jonathan called to inform them Warren had developed a freeze ray, which he planned to use on a heist of some kind. Where, he didn’t know.

They scanned through everything they could find looking for likely targets. Hours later Willow exclaimed from her laptop, “Oh! I think I found it!”

They crowded around her. She had the website of the local museum up. A large diamond, supposedly with mystical qualities, was set to arrive the next day.

“Be tough to fence a rock that big,” Spike commented.

“I don’t think Warren wants it for the money,” Tara said.

“There’s any number of spells you could enhance with a mystical gem that size,” Willow explained. “It would be a powerful focal point.”

“So, when would he make his move?” Xander asked.

“No way to be sure, but it won’t be here long,” Willow scanned the article as she spoke. “I’d guess tomorrow night, right after it arrives.”

“Do we call the cops?” Dawn asked.

“Sunnydale PD isn’t up for much beyond traffic stops,” Spike opined. “We’ll have to take them out ourselves, call the cops in after.”

“Whoa.” Xander said. “What do you mean we, white man?”

Spike scowled at him. “I mean that three or four of us stake out the museum and nab them, what do you think I mean?”

“You’re not going.” Xander said with finality.

“The hell I’m not.”

“They’re human, Spike. As in they can hurt you, you can’t hurt them.”

Willow broke in at this point. “I think Xander and I should be able to handle a couple of geeks.”

Spike turned a fierce glower on her. “Geeks can have guns. You bulletproof all of a sudden?”

This started Willow bouncing in her seat. “Oh, I’ve been practicing this great shield spell, bullets would bounce right off it.” Tara smiled indulgently and put her hands on Willow’s shoulders.

“To bounce where exactly?” Spike was far from convinced.

“Sounds like a good reason to keep us down to two then,” Xander interjected.

It was clear Spike was unhappy with the arrangement, but he saw he was overruled. He leveled an accusatory finger at Xander. “This time, you stay well behind Red, you understand? Your luck, you’d catch every ricochet.”

Xander mock saluted at him. “Private Harris, reporting to the rear of the column, sir.”

He could tell Spike wasn’t very happy with that.

###

They weren’t able to get in touch with Jonathan before they moved to stake out the museum the following night. There were only two entrances, the front doors for the public and a rear loading dock. Willow took the front and Xander took the back. Willow had set up a mental link between them before they left the house.

*This is one great big bust.* Xander heard Willow whine in his head. That still wigged him out big time.

He barely restrained himself from responding out loud. *I really wish you wouldn’t do that, Wills. I feel like a mental case.*

*It’s just a little telepathy, silly,* she chided. *If I could do it long range we could save a ton on cell phones, it’s handy.*

*And entirely freaksome. I don’t think they’re coming tonight. Maybe,* He caught movement out of the corner of his eye on the side of the building. *What’s that?*

*Isn’t that my line?*

*Hang on, I’m gonna see if I can’t get a better line of sight.* He hugged the wall of the alley and eased his way over to the corner. He couldn’t see much, just movement in the shadows, and a metallic scraping noise up on the roof. By the time he was even with the corner, and thought to look up, all he got to see was a pair of legs disappearing onto the roof.

*Dammit Wills, we forgot about the skylight.* He refrained from kicking the wall in favor of edging around the building.

*Come around to the front, I’m trying to jimmy the lock. I think I can bypass the security system.*

Xander hugged the wall, alert for anyone on the roof who might be looking down. Two tense minutes later he made it to the next corner and spied Willow at the front entrance, head bent over the lock. He moved to shield her from view.

“How long is this going to take, Willow?” he whispered, bouncing in place while scanning the street. It was a good thing Sunnydale tended to roll up the streets around midnight.

“Just give me a minute,” she whispered back in a distracted voice.

Xander spent the next few minutes, each several hours long, rehearsing what he would say to the nice police officer who pulled up and asked what they were doing. He’d gotten up to having left his pet hamster inside, when Willow’s triumphant voice declared, “Got it.”

They wended their way through two exhibit halls, and had to duck behind a sarcophagus to avoid detection by Rusty, the night watchman, before they got a view of the room with the diamond.

Jonathan was suspended from the skylight, fumbling at his waist where the wires attached. Warren was cutting into the case covering the diamond. A blond headed kid that must be Andrew had a ball in his outstretched hand, and he was chanting.

“Don’t do this, Andrew,” Jonathan growled at him as if he was threatening to destroy some precious possession.

A bright flash of light had them shielding their eyes. When they blinked the spots away, they saw Andrew looking bewildered, and Warren pocketing the diamond. He shook his head like he didn’t expect any better from his cohorts.

“Guess we won’t be doing this the easy way after all.” Warren pulled out a gun and leveled it at Jonathan.

Xander moved to charge Warren, when Willow put out an arm to stop him. He looked down and saw she was chanting under her breath. The shield spell he presumed.

Lucky for them, Warren seemed to have taken the evil villain correspondence course and was busy monologuing. “Tough luck, Sparky. We were just gonna leave you hanging around. You’d be a babbling idiot who didn’t remember his own name, much less ours but you’d be alive.”

Jonathan stared back at Warren and said nothing.

Warren shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll find myself another pair of dupes. Scrambled eggs-for-brains here will take the heat, you’ll be dead, and I’ll be home free. Now, let’s see if that Teflon magic you’ve got works on bullets.”

Jonathan shut his eyes.

The hell with staying to the rear, Xander couldn’t watch Warren shoot Jonathan down in cold blood. Before he could move, Willow stood up shouting, “Hey Warren, over here!”

Warren spun to face them and fired, two or three shots. Willow was propelled back into Xander, and they both went sprawling.

Xander was up again immediately, feeling over Willow for injuries. He fully expected his hands to come away bloody. She hit at his hands in irritation. “Watch the hands, mister.”

“I thought you were hit!”

“Gotta figure out how to dissipate the energy,” she muttered. Xander helped her to her feet, then they both lurched over to the scene of the crime. Xander figured Rusty should be showing up any second.

Warren lay against the display case, his limbs splayed out around him, a shiny, wet stain growing on his chest. Willow kicked his gun away, Xander could tell she’d always wanted to do something like that. Xander plucked a pair of wire cutters from a passive and confused Andrew and cut Jonathan down.

“Thought I was a goner,” Jonathan confessed.

“Nah, we had your back,” Xander eased him down from his suspended position.

Jonathan clutched at something under his shirt. “You aren’t kidding. If Willow hadn’t amped up this reflection amulet, that would be me.” He pointed to Andrew, who stared back like a baffled two year old. “We’ve known each other since first grade. How could he do that to me?”

Jonathan seemed more hurt than angry. Xander wished he had an answer for him.

“Guys,” Willow’s voice was thin and quavery as she knelt beside Warren. “I think he’s dying.”

Rusty came skidding around the corner and stared at the scene, obviously trying to make sense of it.

“Call 911!” Willow demanded. One more look told the man he was out of his depth, and he scampered off to the phone.

“It was a perfect plan,” Warren mumbled, then his eyes tracked to Jonathan. “You didn’t suspect I knew. I made sure.”

“You’re right, I didn’t,” Jonathan glanced at Willow and Xander. “Just lucky I had friends.”

“Guys, we need to get out of here,” Xander urged. He pulled Willow to her feet. “He’s calling the ambulance,” he assured her. “There’s nothing we can do here.”

A series of wet, rattling coughs issued from Warren. Willow’s eyes were fixed on his prone form until Xander and Jonathan pulled her from the room.

Chapter 12

Xander kept them moving until they were five blocks from the museum and the sound of approaching sirens, then they paused to take a quick breather and assess any damage. Willow was very far from her happy place.

“Giles told me the spell wasn’t ready, but I was so sure.”

Xander didn’t think she was actually talking to him. He’d heard her go into these out loud internal monologues before. He turned his attention to Jonathan for the moment. “How you doing, champ? Were you hit?”

“Oh God.” Jonathon paled. Apparently, the possibility hadn’t struck him before. He patted at his chest and arms as if he wouldn’t have noticed a bullet hole by now.

Willow covered her mouth in alarm. “I could have hit you!”

Xander gripped her shoulders, shaking her. If he didn’t break Willow out of her self-reproaching headspace they wouldn’t get back to the house for hours. “But you didn’t, you hit Warren, and I can’t say I’m sorry about that.”

Xander had a passing thought for his own lack of feeling on the subject. Warren was human after all, and they didn’t kill humans. But Warren had been about to kill Jonathan and had tried to kill him and Willow. Sympathy for his possible demise just wouldn’t come. In the meantime, he had people he cared about to shepherd safely home.

“We need to keep moving, they’re going to be looking for us,” he said.

“No, they won’t.” Willow spoke casually, greater matters on her mind.

Xander gripped Willow’s shoulder tighter, the fabric of her fuzzy, black jacket tickling his fingers, in an attempt to draw her attention back to him. “Want to run that by me again?”

“I cast a confusion spell on us before we left the house. Anyone who saw us in passing wouldn’t be sure of what they saw. By the time Rusty gets back, he’ll convince himself that Warren and Andrew were alone in the room.”

Xander pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes, then shuddered briefly when he realized he was channeling Giles. “Willow, what have we said about casting magic on people without telling them?”

Right on cue the defensive tone came up. “But it was just a tiny spell, hardly anything at all. Giles and I thought it would be useful in the field. I’ve been studying it for weeks.”

“You still should have told me.” Xander remained steadfast in his irritation. A glance at Jonathan had him wondering if he needed to find a paper bag for the kid to breathe into. Thinking that talking might stop him hyperventilating he asked, “What happened tonight? Why didn’t you call us?”

Jonathon had one hand braced against the wall of the nearest building as if he could soak up it’s stability through physical contact. Swallowing convulsively he replied, “They were watching me like hawks, I couldn’t slip away. Should have known they’d figured it out. But I thought we’d do the robbery and then catch them with the stolen goods. I thought actually robbing a place would wake Andrew up, you know?” Jonathan looked at Xander with wide, hopeless eyes. “Guess I was pretty stupid, huh?”

“No.” Xander threw his arm over Jonathan’s shoulders. “You trusted him, and you tried to save him. That’s never a stupid thing. Look, I don’t think you should be alone tonight. How about you come home with us?”

Jonathan gave a grateful nod and they continued on their way.

###

Back at the house, they found Spike and Tara waiting up for them.

“Who’s hurt?” Spike demanded by way of greeting.

“No casualties for the home team this time,” Xander assured, trying to move past him into the living room.

“I smell blood,” Spike insisted, grabbing Xander’s arm and violating his personal space to sniff at him.

Xander shook himself loose from the vampire’s grasp. “Yeah, well, the other team wasn’t so lucky.”

Tara was holding Willow’s blood-smudged hands and looking like she wanted some answers.

“I think I killed Warren.” Willow’s little-girl voice always cut Xander to the quick. He foresaw some long soul searching nights ahead.

Giving her hands a speculative look, Spike cocked an eyebrow at her that clearly indicated she should continue.

Willow’s mood spun to attack mode. “You were right! Okay! Ricocheting bullets are dangerous, is that what you wanted to hear?”

Tara tried to shush her, whispering frantically that Dawn was asleep, but Willow tore away from her and went charging upstairs. Tara turned to them with an apologetic look and followed her up.

Xander stared after them for a minute then turned back to Spike. “In a nutshell, Andrew’s mind-fried and Warren was shot. Bad. We’ll find out how bad tomorrow.” He turned his attention back to Jonathan. “We don’t really have a guest room so you take mine and I’ll bunk with Spike.”

“Really, I can just go home,” Jonathan protested edging back for the door.

Xander was having no arguments at this point. “I have to be at work in four hours. Spike has a king-sized bed downstairs. Let me grab some clothes for in the morning, and I’m going to bed. Maybe I’ll actually get to be the first one to use the new shower.” He turned a commanding eye on Spike. “Any objections?”

Spike seemed more amused than anything else by this sudden string of the-way-things-were-going-to-be. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good. C’mon Jonathan, I’ll show you where things are.” He marched upstairs with Jonathan trailing uncertainly in his wake and Spike smirking after him.

###

Xander descended the stairs to the basement too tired to wonder if he’d made the right decision. He’d settled Jonathan in his room with a few vague directions on the location of towels and spare toothbrushes. The night’s adrenaline surge had worn off on the walk home, and Xander was painfully aware of how little sleep he was going to get before he had to be at work. He had his tools, his hard hat and a change of clothes, and it would take an impending apocalypse to keep him from tumbling into bed.

Spike wasn’t in the basement, and he hadn’t passed him on the way down. He wasn’t up for speculating on where the vampire might have gone. Possibly the thought of sharing bed space with one Xander Harris had sent him off for a late patrol. If so, Xander would likely have the bed to himself, since he’d be getting up right before sunrise.

Stripping down to t-shirt and boxers, Xander slipped into bed and was asleep in seconds.

###

A hand gripped his shoulder and shook him out of his sound sleep. “Sorry, mate,” Spike’s voice floated unwelcome to his ear. “S’time to get up.”

Xander tried to burrow deeper into the covers. “What time is it?”

“Little after 6.”

Xander pried one eye open to glare at the fuzzy numbers on the alarm clock. It was 6:15, meaning he had about enough time to grab a shower and a pop tart before he had to be out the door.

“Dawn christened the tub last night.” Spike was seated on the side of the bed now. “Was in there for over an hour. Think she drained the water heater twice. You get first crack at the shower though.”

Not able to cobble together enough brain cells to come up with a worthwhile response, he grunted as he pushed himself out of bed and staggered to the bathroom.

He turned on the shower massage and the overhead rain shower spray and went to empty his bladder. By the time he was finished, steam was billowing out of the stall. He climbed in and let out a heartfelt sigh as the hot water pelted his skin. He stood with his hands braced on the glass in front of him, just feeling the hot water pound into his back and neck, while, from above, he was gently soaked. He would have loved to stand there for half an hour or more, but he didn’t have that kind of time, so he grabbed the soap and washcloth and gave himself a quick scrubbing.

He exited the shower feeling much more human. One of the big fluffy bathsheets was hanging on the towel rack. He rubbed himself down, luxuriating in the soft absorbency of the huge towel and the lingering warmth of the bathroom. The towel wrapped around his waist, he cursed himself for not bringing his toiletries down last night. Then his eyes fell on the bathroom counter. There sat his deodorant, razor, in fact all his toiletries, neatly laid out.

He stared at them like alien objects for a moment. Willow and Tara had both disappeared into their room before the sleeping arrangements had been made. Even if Jonathan had thought about doing it, he wouldn’t have known which toothbrush was Xander’s. That left Spike.

This wasn’t the first time Spike had been considerate, and it was doing his head in. It was against all the laws of the universe. He almost hoped he found one of the items was booby-trapped. It would be easier than figuring out how to deal with Spike being nice.

He thought about his and Spike’s changed relationship while he went through his morning routine. Sure, they still sniped at each other, but it had been quite awhile since there was any real venom in it. He’d gotten comfortable trusting Spike, relying on him. Xander’s feelings had grown from manly solidarity against the overwhelming tide of estrogen in the household to genuine caring. He’d always assumed Spike still kept a healthy level of animosity toward him. Guess he was wrong. This level of thoughtfulness smacked of outright affection.

Clean shaven and ready to get dressed, he exited the bathroom in quest of his clothes. Fortunately, they hadn’t moved from the chair he’d thrown them on earlier that morning. He started getting dressed when movement from the bed caught his attention.

Spike was snuggled into the warm indentation Xander had left when he got up. Spike was face down with the burgundy sheets pooling at his waist. Looked like he hadn’t changed his habit of sleeping in the nude.

He could imagine the way Spike’s back would feel under his fingertips. Satiny skin stretched tight over lean muscle and the knobs of his vertebrae. How his flesh would warm under his touch.

Abruptly, Xander realized he’d been standing with one leg in his pants, staring at that expanse of flawless, milk white skin. It was definitely time to enter the dating pool again. If the repress button was that faulty, then humiliation and disaster was just around the corner.

He finished getting dressed, keeping his eyes averted from the beautiful body in the bed. The smell of coffee wafting from the kitchen was a sufficient siren song to drag him upstairs.

He filled his travel mug with freshly brewed caffeine goodness, grabbed his pop tart and headed for the door with just enough time to make it to work. His progress was stopped when he spotted Jonathan in Xander’s bathrobe, sitting on the floor in the living room. He was watching the local news with the sound turned down low.

“What are you doing up?” Xander asked. The Magic Box didn’t open for another two hours. Plenty of time for another hour of quality sleep. For that matter, given last night’s activity, he doubted Giles would object to opening late today.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Jonathan said fiddling with the robe’s tie. “I had to know what happened, and I couldn’t call the hospital.”

Xander nodded his understanding. If Warren talked, the police could be looking for Jonathan right now. There was very little chance Warren wouldn’t try to pin the whole thing on Jonathan the minute he got to talk to a police officer. It had to be nerve wracking. “Have they reported anything?”

Jonathan stared more intently at the tight knot holding the robe closed. “Yes.” He looked like he couldn’t figure out how to feel about the news he had to deliver. Finally, he looked up and managed two words. “Warren’s dead.”

Chapter Thirteen

Warren was dead. The first thought that went through Xander’s brain was, ‘That makes things easier.’ It was followed closely by the realization that Willow was not going to share that attitude.

Xander could feel the murky waters of responsibility closing over his head. He was running on too little sleep to handle this situation. There was only one course of action that made sense. Call for back up.

“I’m calling Giles,” he said.

Giles picked up on the third ring. “Hello,” he sounded rushed, as if he’d been halfway out the door.

“We have a situation, Giles. How soon can you get here?” Xander was not in a friendly greeting mood.

“Xander,” Giles said, still sounding rushed but listening. “What sort of situation?”

“We’ve got dead bad guy with high chance of emotional fallout. Listen, I really don’t want to go over the whole thing on the phone. Can you come here?” Xander wanted out of the house in the worst way. He knew it was cowardly to just dump this on Giles and run but that was the current plan.

“I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks, Giles.” Xander breathed a little sigh of relief. The cavalry was on the way.

He turned back to the living room to find Jonathan staring at him with helpless confusion. “I’m not sorry,” he said. “Does that make me a monster?”

Xander searched for some shred of regret in his own psyche. He couldn’t find any. He’d worry about the whys later. “The guy was a couple seconds away from murdering you in cold blood. If not being sorry he’s dead makes you a monster I’m right there with you.” Practicality won out over brooding over morality. “Did they say when he died?”

Jonathan seemed a little bolstered by the fact that Xander was unperturbed by Warren’s demise. “He died on the way to the hospital. Least that’s what they said.”

“Good, then he probably didn’t get a chance to name names. That makes things much simpler.” Xander found himself pacing as he tried to think of what else they might need to worry about. “Let Giles break the news to Willow. She’s going to seriously wig.”

This was more than Tara could handle alone and Xander felt completely out of his depth. Spike would be less than useless. He’d probably complain that they hadn’t killed him in a sufficiently gruesome fashion. Moral quandaries were not his forte.

He was just about to sit down with Jonathan to see if there was any further coverage when Giles knocked on the door.

“Would you mind explaining to me what has happened?” Giles demanded as he stepped inside.

Xander gave him a thumbnail sketch of the previous night’s events. “Jonathan can fill you in on the rest,” he concluded. “Just as a sidebar, you might want to have a little talk with Will about casting spells on people without their permission.”

Giles gave him a questioning look.

“Look, I don’t care how little the spell is, I want to know if it’s being cast on me, I’m just saying.” Xander felt like he was being petty with the larger issues they had to deal with but they couldn’t just let it go or it would get out of hand.

Xander grabbed his hard hat and tool belt while Giles tried to find his voice. Before Xander could make good his escape Giles put a hand on his arm. “You do realize I have no more answers than you.”

“Maybe not, but you fake it a whole lot better.”

Giles dropped his hand and Xander went to work.

###

It was not Xander’s most productive work day. Having delegated the Warren situation to Giles, his brain was free to hijack him on the Spike front. He wondered if he would have been so cavalier about Warren’s death a year ago. He could hear Anya’s voice telling him that Warren was just lucky she didn’t still have her powers. If he was on a path of moral decay, it hadn’t started with Spike. What was it with him and his attraction to the morally ambiguous crowd?

Of course, being attracted to Spike was nothing new. He’d had lusty thoughts about Spike since one immediately repressed, never-to-be-mentioned wet dream right after parent/teacher night. It had been pretty easy to keep a lid on while Spike was actively trying to kill them. It had been a little harder since the chip.

The big blow had come when Xander saw Spike being straddled by the Buffybot. Convinced he was going to have to be understanding with Buffy, who had obviously lost her mind, he let slip a few appreciative words that Anya had tucked away in that steel trap brain of hers.

Okay, so he might as well have hung a sign around his neck saying, “I lust after Spike.” Even if embarrassment had allowed him to forget what he’d said, Anya’s faithful repetition had made sure it burned in good and hard.

“It’s understandable. Spike is strong, and mysterious, and sort of compact but well muscled.” He still cringed at the memory.

That night, having gotten Spike back from Glory, Anya brought up those words as the groundwork for an extremely disturbing idea. She wanted a threesome with Spike. What Xander had found the most disturbing was how very tempting it was.

At first, he insisted that he wasn’t attracted to Spike. Anya kept repeating his words back to him until he crumbled. It didn’t take long. When he confessed that he was afraid two people as gorgeous as Spike and his Anya would ditch him for each other, he got a much more sympathetic hearing. He had a suspicion that she hadn’t dropped the idea, just put it on the back burner, but things with Glory got crazy, and then she was dead.

She’d been dead for six months now. Xander was still only 21 and it was natural his libido would start stamping its foot. He and Spike were friends now, confidantes. Even so, Xander had no illusions that Spike was attracted to him. If Xander let slip his own interest, that could lead to awkwardness of epic proportions. Logically, he needed to find himself a more appropriate outlet.

If only dating in this town wasn’t such a nightmare.

###

Willow was not taking Warren’s death well. Xander came home to find her baking, a sure sign of guilt overload.

“She been at this all day?” Xander whispered to Tara.

“All day,” Tara confirmed.

Noting the distinct lack of watcher, Xander asked, “Where’s Giles?”

“He and Jonathan decided to go ahead and open the shop a couple hours ago,” Tara said. “I think Jonathan’s going to be okay. He wants to try to reverse the spell on Andrew. I told him not to get his hopes up. It’ll be hard without knowing the spell.”

“Wait, Giles just left you holding the bag here?”

Tara shrugged. “I think we can handle it. Family dinner in an hour. Willow baked bread.”

Xander couldn’t remember Willow ever baking bread before. “Yeah, that’s bad. You okay?”

Tara gave a wan smile. “I hurt when she hurts.”

Xander squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

He went upstairs and got himself cleaned up for dinner. All his stuff had been returned to its proper places in the bathroom. This wasn’t as freaky as finding them in the new bathroom. He imagined Spike was staking a claim to the new facilities. Not that the girls would let him get away with it, but it would certainly be amusing to watch.

Having gotten cleaned up, he headed for the kitchen. He poked his head around the corner to see if he could help. What he saw was Willow bustling about like she was preparing for the next apocalypse while Tara rescued something from becoming flambé.

“Willow,” Tara gentled “it’s just the five of us, we don’t need a seven course meal.”

“I can do this,” Willow babbled. “You always do the cooking, I can do my part.”

“You do, baby,” Tara whispered. “No one blames you.”

Xander withdrew without letting his presence be known. Tara had the situation in hand. He turned to go into the dining room and nearly ran into Spike.

“Bell, I’m definitely getting you a bell,” Xander gasped. Spike gave him a “you and what army?” look.

“Been keeping my head down today, little witch is acting like she could go off the deep end,” Spike explained.

“Nah, she’s a little extra tightly wound. That’s all,” Xander hoped he wasn’t lying. “Listen, thanks for grabbing my stuff this morning.”

Spike was peering past him into the kitchen, probably listening in on Willow and Tara. He shrugged in response.

Evidently, the thoughtful gesture hadn’t meant as much as Xander had, subconsciously, hoped. He kicked himself for his stupidity and changed the subject. “Where’s Dawn?”

“She’s hiding out in her room. Imagine she’ll poke her head out for dinner.”

“How’s she taking this mess?”

Spike’s focus returned to Xander. “She’s practical.”

Xander wondered just how horrified he’d be to hear what Spike and Dawn talked about. “Want to grab some tube time before dinner?”

Spike broke into a grin. “Only if I get to pick what we watch.”

One sitcom’s worth of mindless entertainment later everyone convened at the table. Willow had obviously been crying, and Tara looked to be at the end of her rope.

“Who made the bread?” Dawn asked in total innocence as she bit into a slice. “It’s good.”

“Thanks,” Willow choked out. “I’ve got cookies and brownies for dessert. Do you think I should take some to Mr. and Mrs. Mears? You’re supposed to take food at a time like this, right?”

“Willow, you don’t know them at all,” Dawn said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t you think that would look kind of suspicious?”

“Don’t know what you’re getting all worked up over. Way I hear it, that Warren bloke needed killing,” Spike interjected.

Tara shot him a glare. “Not all of us can be that cold blooded over taking a life.”

“I can’t believe I killed him.” Willow stared at her plate, moving her food around without eating any.

“Willow, I was there,” Xander said. “The only person to blame for Warren’s death is Warren.”

“But I could have hit Jonathan, or you,” she insisted.

“Learn something from that did you?” Spike’s words sounded very much like “I told you so.”

“I won’t be using any spells in combat until I know all the ramifications.” She sounded like she was reciting something Giles had made her write fifty times.

“Right, that’s sorted then.” Spike seemed satisfied that the matter was closed.

Willow continued to look miserable, Dawn looked like she might duck under the table and Tara seemed ready to join her. They needed a new topic of conversation.

“I’m thinking about dating again.” Xander winced as he threw himself on the grenade.

“What brought this on?” Tara asked. She looked pleased at the distraction.

“Hey, I’m a red-blooded American male. I have needs.”

Dawn giggled behind her hand.

Willow eyed him speculatively. “Are you sure about this?”

“Sure I’m sure.” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Women of Sunnydale, the Xan-man is back on the market.”

“You mean back on the menu, don’t you?” Dawn giggled.

Xander shook a finger at her. “None of that, missy. I’m changing my luck. Only 100% human girls need apply.” After a brief pause he added, “If I can figure out how to meet them.”

“Oh, you could take a yoga class,” Tara warmed to the subject very quickly. “There are always more women than men in those classes. Or dancing classes.”

“Okay, you’ve just picked two ways I can display my complete lack of grace to a roomful of prospective dates.”

“It’s a way of declaring that you aren’t afraid of being laughed at,” Willow chimed in with a big grin on her face.

“Gee thanks.” Xander tried to scowl but wasn’t very successful. The diversion was working too well. The rest of the meal was spent with suggestions like outdoor activities with lots of sunshine. The grocery store was even suggested as a possible pick up spot. Xander had a vision of himself holding a zucchini and trying to flirt. In the end, Willow and Tara started coming up with a list of potential blind dates among their acquaintances.

At the height of the hilarity, Xander looked around to see what Spike was going to hit him with and found his place empty.

###

True to their word, Tara and Willow set him up on several dates which Xander supplemented with the old, “hang out at the bar and see if anyone shows interest” approach.

The results of both methods were predictable.

He ended up complaining to Willow. “What the hell is it, I ended up having to stake two of my dates in the last month.”

“Face it Xander, you’re just irresistible.” She giggled.

“That’s not the worst part, the best conversation I’ve had with a date in over a month was that Sarva demon. Hell, I would have kept dating her but she wanted way more commitment than I’m ready for. Poppa to 50 pupae is way farther than I want to go on a second date. She was cool about it and she was way more interesting than the two dates I had that actually turned out to be human. Am I just completely unable to connect to plain old human beings any more?”

“Well, it doesn’t help that you can’t talk about your night job.” Willow sipped from her mug and snuggled further back into the couch.

“And there’s only so much you can talk about hanging drywall before I start to bore myself. I love my job but it’s not really a good conversation topic.”

“Just give yourself time. Aren’t you going on a date tonight?”

“Yeah, I even met her in daylight at the grocery store. Who knew that was the hot pick up spot?” Xander fiddled with his spoon. “She works at a funeral home. I’m pretty sure I’ll be one of the few guys interested in hearing her talk about her work.”

“Always a big plus.” Willow nodded. “Is she pretty?”

“Oh yeah.” Xander was getting a kick out of girl watching with Willow. It was a new kind of bonding for them, but it was fun. “Long brunette hair, big brown eyes, definitely works out.”

“Give me the breast stats,” Willow demanded.

“Looked like a B cup to me,” Xander grinned.

“Oh pooh, you had me till then,” she teased.

“Hey, I’m a leg man, and she had some mighty fine gams.”

“Willow, where did you put my throwing daggers? I want to practice some before patrol tonight,” the Buffybot complained as she walked in.

“Did you try the garage? I think we might have shoved some of the weaponry out there the last time Social Services came by,” Willow responded smoothly. Xander’s skin tried to take a vacation elsewhere.

“I’ll check,” the robot said, heading out to the garage.

“Damn that’s creepy.” He said when the bot was out of earshot.

“Everyone accepts her as Buffy, don’t they?” Willow’s eyes lost the humor of a moment ago. She was tired of this argument.

“That’s what’s so creepy,” Xander insisted. He wasn’t tired of the argument yet. Willow had used magic to enhance the bot’s personality subroutines. It now talked and acted so much like Buffy that Xander found himself constantly having to remind himself it was a thing.

“For once it would be nice if someone said ‘thank you, good job, Willow’ instead of being creeped out all the time.”

“You don’t think it’s creepy at all?” He stared at her incredulous.

“It’s necessary. We all agreed to it. Full Scooby meeting and everything.”

“Just because I agreed to it doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Xander couldn’t help but feel sorry for Spike. Given a choice he would hide for days rather than face the bot. He wondered how he’d feel if it had been necessary to have an Anyabot running around.

Willow crossed her arms, a look of indignation plastered on her face. “And your solution would be?”

“I don’t have one. You know that. But what’s it doing active right now?”

“Tara and I have found a possible way to tap into Dawn’s power. We’re going to do some experimenting with that after school. Spike has some mysterious errand and you have a date. Someone has to patrol.”

Xander knew what Spike’s mysterious errand was. He was hustling pool up at the college. Fleecing frat boys out of their allowances was one way he supplemented the family income. Xander had caught him at it one night and been amused at Spike’s pitiful attempts to prevaricate. He’d relaxed when Xander explained he was far from disapproving. He’d even helped every now and then. He thought Spike had called it being a shill.

“You’re right,” he admitted grudgingly. “Thank you, Willow. You’ve done an amazing job on our little mechanical slayer.”

Willow brightened. “Why you’re welcome, Xander.”

“But it still creeps me out.” Willow hit him with a pillow.

Chapter Fourteen

The date was going really well, Xander was shocked to realize. His particular brand of off beat humor seemed to be hitting an answering chord in Michelle. He hadn’t figured out how to bring the topic up, but he suspected she actually knew the Sunnydale score. Thus far, his dates with actual humans had ended with frozen smiles and hastily closed doors, accompanied by complete certainty there would be no second date. It was nice to be with someone who wasn’t convinced he was a serial killer.

The Espresso Pump made a safe, neutral meeting spot. Xander sipped his Froofy Frappachio (which he had not been given a hard time about) and laughed at Michelle’s latest story.

“So, you just put a scarf around her neck and no one wondered?” he asked.

“Hey, it’s better than trying to explain how you lost the body. After awhile decapitation is standard operating procedure with neck wound cases.” Michelle cradled her double espresso and smiled winningly.

Suspicion grew into outright certainty. “I’ve always wondered, embalming doesn’t help with that little disappearing corpse problem?”

“Not so much.”

An idea worked its way into Xander’s brain and wouldn’t leave. “What do you do with the blood?”

“Goes down the drain. We use the embalming fluid to push it out of the bodies, makes the blood safe to dump.” She cocked her head at him like she was charmed that he was concerned. “We’re not a blood bank.”

“Yeah.” He took a sip of his frap. “Guess that stuff would make it pretty unpalatable.”

The idea wouldn’t let go, all that perfectly good human blood going down the drain when Spike could really use it. “I don’t suppose you could drain the blood without the embalming fluid.”

Michelle’s charmed smile got frosty around the edges. “What would you need blood for?”

“I have a friend,” Xander said, and found he didn’t really have a very reasonable explanation to go along with that opening. In the end he went with the truth, lame as it was. “He could really use it.”

“This friend wouldn’t happen to be bumpy around the forehead, mouth full of fangs.” The smile was gone now and the atmosphere was icy.

“Listen, it’s not what you think,” he backtracked.

“I should have known you were too good to be true.” All the warmth had disappeared from her voice as she grabbed up her handbag. “Might have known you were a vamp whore.”

“A what?” Xander exclaimed in shock.

“You can just tell your master that I’m not providing take out.” She stared at him like she’d just scraped him off the bottom of her shoe.

“Are you insane?” Xander hissed, keeping his voice down around the civilians. “I’ve been dusting vamps for five years. I don’t call them master.” Well, there was that once, but he was hardly going to bring up his little bug eating adventure right now.

“Then who’s this ‘friend’ of yours?” Disdain dripped from her words.

He wasn’t making any headway, and he couldn’t come up with a reasonable, concise way to change her mind.

“He’s an exception,” he said. Not exactly his best line but he was willing to go with it. “He fights with us.”

“So, what’s his story? He’s not to blame for what he is? He never wanted to hurt anyone? Is he working for redemption?” Her tone was so bitter it made him flinch.

“Well, no actually.” Everything Spike had ever said on the subject lead him to believe Spike viewed his turning as a gift, and he was absolutely certain Spike not only wanted to hurt people but downright delighted in it. Redemption, that was Angel’s gig. “He’s got this chip.”

The laugh that escaped her had more to do with pain than humor. She bolted for the door.

Xander sprinted after her before he really thought about it. It was early evening in Sunnydale and, as emotionally stressed as she was, she could be vamp chow. He caught up to her a couple blocks away in the park just off the town square. It was out of the main traffic of downtown, slightly isolated while still being in sight of the busy street. In other words, prime vampire hunting territory.

“Michelle, what the hell are you thinking? Do you want to get eaten out here?” Xander yelled his exasperation.

“He had a chip too,” she said blandly, as if it was a tired pick up line.

“Who?”

Rage flickered in her eyes. “The vamp that killed my sister.”

“Okay, I think I’m coming in about reel three here.” Xander spoke in the most soothing tone he could muster; she sounded unbalanced.

She told her story like she was reading the back cover of a novel, like she wanted to keep the whole thing at arm’s length. “About a year ago my sister started acting strange. She was tired and pale all the time, we thought she was on drugs. Turns out she was letting some guy live with her, said he’d been burned out of where he was staying. When I tried to check him out I couldn’t find anything. He didn’t work, he slept all day. We thought he was a dealer. When I told her I was going to call the cops she told me he was a vampire.”

“Let me guess, you didn’t believe her.”

“I work in a funeral home in this town. I believed her.” Her eyes flashed and he took a step back. “Two weeks later we found her dead in her apartment. She had bites on her that were months old.”

“If he had a chip, trust me, he couldn’t have bitten her. Pain to a human gives them the mother of all migraines.” Xander was trying his best to be reasonable. He’d seen the effects of the chip first hand. Hell, he’d baited Spike into attacking him just so he could laugh while he rolled on the floor in agony. The memory made him wince.

“Who said anything about pain? Half the vamps in the suck house had chips in their heads.”

Xander wasn’t sure what to say to this outpouring of information. All he could think about was bringing this date to the safest end he could manage. “Let me take you home.”

“I don’t want you knowing where I live.” She made no attempt to soften the blow.

Xander gritted his teeth and backed up. “Then I’m putting you in a cab. You’re not walking home at night when you’re this upset.” He waved an arm back toward the street. She nodded her assent.

As he was holding the door for her she looked back at him. “Don’t trust this friend of yours. You may still be able to get away.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” he said mechanically as he shut the door.

He started walking away before the cab pulled out. He didn’t want her to think he was trying to discover clues about where she lived. He didn’t feel like going home: he could do without the questions the girls would level at him. Instead, he headed toward the college. Maybe he could watch Spike hustle pool for awhile.

Reluctantly, he mulled over what Michelle had said. It was a little like getting new pieces to a jigsaw puzzle you thought you had finished. The vamp that killed Michelle’s sister had probably moved in after Buffy barbequed the local suck house. He wasn’t sure he believed that he had a chip. Then again, the night they took down the Initiative had been total chaos. It wouldn’t be too surprising if a few chipped vampires had high tailed it out of there. The very fact that things like suck houses existed suggested that the bite must be able to bring some kind of pleasure, a high of some kind. Being more familiar with the “rip your throat out” kind of bite, the idea that it could be pleasurable hadn’t really occurred to him. It was a loophole in the chip’s design he’d therefore never considered.

It made a strange kind of sense. This vamp probably kept giving Michelle’s sister her fix, but without other donors he eventually took too much. Giles had said it happened sometimes. He could picture the girl all too clearly, bites along her arms, neck and shoulders, maybe her legs as well.

What he couldn’t picture was the vampire in question helping Dawn with her history homework, or going out to kill demons with the Slayer. Most of all, he couldn’t imagine this nameless vamp holding him while he wept over his dead girlfriend. It was impossible that Spike was setting them up. For one thing, there was no way he had the patience for a con this long. For a vicious killer Spike was a lousy liar. Pulling a scam like this off would be beyond him.

In the end, his musings just made him more angry at Michelle’s attitude. Someone who hadn’t been through what the Scoobies had been through together would never be able to fully understand the bond between them. They’d see Spike, displaying his Big Bad persona like protective camouflage, and see a vicious predator. Of course, he was a vicious predator, but that’s not all he was.

Xander entered the college bar seething. Michelle had judged him and his family without knowing any of them. They put their lives on the line for people like her day after day, and she had the nerve to call him a sick freak because her sister was an idiot. Xander scanned the bar and found Spike at a table with a couple of frat boys. He settled into a chair where he had a line of sight to the game without being obvious.

Spike was moving around the table, taking shots in smooth, economical movements. As each ball dropped into the pocket the frat boys began grumbling as they watched their money disappearing. Spike met Xander’s gaze briefly as he was sinking the last ball. If these two gave him trouble, he knew Xander would back him up.

As it turned out, no intervention was necessary. They handed over the money with ill grace and went to the bar to drown their sorrows. As Spike didn’t have any other marks lined up, Xander joined him at the table.

“Want to play a round?” Xander asked. “See if I can manage to sink a ball or two before you wipe the floor with me?”

“Your funeral.” Spike racked the balls again while Xander chose a cue stick. They played in silence for a little while. Xander found the feel of the smooth wood sliding through his fingers calming. Focusing all his attention and control on the game forced his anger into the background. Eventually, Xander gave voice to the questions roaming around in his head.

“Spike, why didn’t you do the whole biting for cash thing when you got chipped?”

Spike raised an eyebrow at him then took his shot, sinking the ball, naturally. “Not exactly my style.”

Xander smiled at that. “Yeah, running to the Slayer for help, much more your style.”

“Well, yeah.” Spike looked a little confused. “Done it before. I helped her with Angelus. She owed me.”

“Oh, I’m sure she saw it that way.”

“Didn’t dust me, did she?”

“Still, you could have gotten blood and money,” Xander pushed.

“Or, I could have gotten myself into a world of hurt.” He spoke matter of factly while sinking the nine ball. “Places like that, not generally run by your scrupulous types. Didn’t know I could hit demons yet, figured I was helpless.” He stood and leveled a look at Xander. “Got any idea how much damage someone like me can take without turning to dust? If the Slayer wanted to take me out, she’d do it quick and clean. Certain dignity to dying at the Slayer’s hands.”

Xander thought of the shape Spike was in when they carried him out from Glory’s clutches. His knuckles whitened on the pool cue. He didn’t want to think if it could get worse than that.

“Eight ball, corner pocket,” Spike called his shot. A quick jab of the cue stick and the ball sank into the designated pocket, ending the game. “What brought all this on?”

“My date didn’t go well,” Xander said simply. He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it.

Spike tilted his head to one side, studying Xander’s face. “Want to head to the crypt and spar?”

“Oh hell, yes.”

Dawn still took combat lessons from Spike once or twice a week with an emphasis on defense, but after the initial rush of being allowed to learn to fight, the lessons had paled on her. She lacked coordination and the lessons soon became frustrating to her. The lessons under Giles and Willow’s tutelage suited her strengths much better. She had the scary love of book learning Xander had only seen equaled by Willow.

He and Spike had continued on without her. Spike and he hit the mats practically every night. Xander was pleased with his progress. Spike was teaching him all sorts of dirty tricks and countermoves. Right now, he just wanted to work out some frustration. Neither of them wanted to go back to the house just yet so they had defaulted to Spike’s old crypt.

Most of the furniture had been moved or discarded. What remained was pushed to the edges so they could move freely in the center. Xander began throwing punches which Spike easily deflected. Xander wasn’t truly trying to connect, this was just a little light practice with Spike offering commentary on his form.

“She had me all labeled and shoved in a box. She wouldn’t even listen to me.” Xander grumbled as he jabbed at Spike. “It’s speciesist, I tell you!”

“Speciesist?” Spike chuckled.

“Well, it’s something intolerant. I just wanted to get you a little human blood, blood that was going to be dumped. As far as she’s concerned that means I spend my spare time calling you master. She doesn’t even know you.”

Spike ducked a punch and moved to the side, keeping Xander moving. “Knows my kind, doesn’t she? Don’t mistake me for a white hat, mate.”

Xander got in a glancing blow on Spike’s shoulder. “Bullshit. I know for a fact you would die for Dawn.”

“You would die for someone you didn’t even know. That’s what makes you a white hat. To me, most of the population is walking juice boxes.”

Xander spread his arms wide in exasperation. “Spike, most people don’t care if the rest of the population lives or dies. Do you think my parents would rush to save me?”

“Then they’re sodding idiots.” Spike grabbed Xander’s shirt and yanked him forward. Xander prepared himself for a throw which didn’t come. Instead, Spike’s mouth closed on his in a deep, passionate kiss.

Chapter Fifteen

Spike was a good kisser. Xander’s brain was far too overwhelmed with shock to register much more than that. As a result, Xander was receiving the best kiss he’d had in months and he was too frozen in pure amazement that it was happening to respond at all.

Then Spike started to pull away. That broke Xander out of his shocked paralysis into instant motion. He grabbed onto Spike’s upper arms, the soft cotton of the worn t-shirt bunching under his fingers, preventing Spike’s withdrawal and deepening the kiss.

He felt Spike’s arms slip around him. Powerful hands forced him against Spike’s hard chest. One hand wandered to the back of his head, making sure he stayed right there, where he most wanted to be.

His own arms snaked around Spike’s waist, pulling their hips tighter together, relishing the delicious friction created.

Eventually, the need for oxygen forced him to pull away, flushed and gasping while staring into dazzling blue eyes.

A smug grin curved across Spike’s face as he said, “Got tired of waiting. You could be an old geezer before we got together if I waited for you to make a move.”

Xander let that pronouncement sink in while he caught his breath, then he dived in for another kiss. He took his time tasting every bit of Spike’s mouth, running his tongue over palate and teeth, his hands wandering over the hard planes of Spike’s back. It was a much better goodnight kiss than he would have expected from Michelle.

This time Spike pulled away to smile wickedly at him. “So, that was alright, then?”

“Nice,” Xander panted while regaining his breath and contemplating a repeat performance. “Really, really nice.”

“Could be nicer,” Spike purred.

Xander felt his stomach flutter in anticipation and just a hint of terror. “New territory, seriously new territory. I think I need to sit down.”

Spike guided him to the recliner which he collapsed into. “This is impossible,” Xander whispered.

“Why?” Spike asked. “If you’re about to suggest I damaged your innocent psyche, you can forget it.”

Xander was too dazed to pay heed to the undercurrent of hurt in Spike’s tone. “Since when?”

That had clearly not been the response Spike expected. “Since when what?”

“You, interested in me. Can I just say, does not compute?”

That brought Spike’s good humor back. “Not so strange, is it? Good looking bloke like yourself, living and working together in close quarters day in, day out. Sparks are bound to fly sooner or later.”

Xander was still trying to wrap his mind around “handsome bloke” in reference to himself. “Funny, I don’t remember going to sleep.”

“Been dreaming about me, pet?” Spike’s confident swagger was back full force, as was the pleased, sexy smirk.

Since this was obviously a dream, parallel dimension or other form of non-reality, there didn’t seem to be any harm in answering truthfully. “Once and awhile ever since Junior year.”

Spike perched on the arm of the recliner, grinning like he’d just been offered two desserts. “Should have known, what with you shaking that cute little arse of yours in my face after you tied me to the barcalounger. And you a hard-core Slayerette. What did you imagine, hmm?”

Xander blushed furiously as he stared up at the vampire smiling at him. “Just fantasies. I’m not so deluded that I thought you were all eager to guide a teenage boy on voyages of sexual discovery.”

Spike brushed Xander’s hair from his face and allowed the backs of his fingers to trail over Xander’s cheek. The cool fingers left an electric tingle in their wake. “Don’t know. For you I might have been tender.”

Xander felt giddy as he said, “I roll disbelieve.”

“Yeah, well, you looked pretty delicious, tucked under Angelus’s arm and still mouthing off.”

“And you said you wouldn’t bite me.” Xander ran a hand down Spike’s thigh making the words provocative rather than hurtful.

Spike slipped his hand to the back of Xander’s neck, drawing him forward into another bone-melting kiss.

“Got a confession of my own to make,” he said as he pulled away.

“Yeah?” Whatever it was Xander hoped it would be short and they could get back to more kissing, possibly accompanied by other, more naked, things.

“When Rupert and I cleaned out your apartment I found your box of sex toys. Got them here.” Spike kept his hands on Xander, running them lightly over his neck and shoulders while Xander blushed furiously. “Couldn’t help but notice the strap on in there and that the restraints looked like they had been used on someone your size rather than Anya’s.”

“Yeah, Anya left no kink unexplored,” Xander said fondly. “Sometimes, when things got overwhelming at the site, she’d take control. It’s probably not very manly to admit it, but being tied up made me feel safe and cherished. She said it made her feel powerful and she didn’t mind doing all the work once in awhile. She could be incredibly generous that way.”

“Still and all,” Spike said like he was leading up to something, “it’s been over six months and I imagine you’re in need of something your average Betty isn’t likely to provide.”

“I kicked around the idea of a club but, well--”

“Hellmouth” they said in unison.

“Thing is, you need to be out of control, have someone take the responsibility for a few hours. I want to be in control, take back a little of being a master for a few hours. Figure we might be able to help each other,” Spike suggested.

A couple of Xander’s more vivid fantasies flashed before his eyes. He looked around for a relatively comfy flat surface they could use. “Now, please?”

“Not tonight. Don’t want you regretting this in the morning when your head clears.” There was pain in Spike’s voice, and Xander ran a thumb along his jaw, wishing he could erase every rejection Spike had ever suffered.

Spike closed his eyes in pleasure and leaned into the touch. Then he pulled back and fished a plain leather collar from a pocket. “I’ll be here, eight o’clock tomorrow night. If you want to do this, come downstairs wearing nothing but this collar. Only you can put it on, only I can take it off. If you haven’t shown by eight thirty I’ll assume you regained your sanity, and we’ll never speak of this again.”

Xander took the collar and threaded it through his fingers. “Deal.”

“But, before we leave,” Spike said, curling his tongue provocatively. “How about you tell me a few of these fantasies?”

Xander gulped.

###

Xander stood in the upper level of Spike’s crypt with the collar in his hand. It was ten after eight and he hadn’t gotten past taking off his shoes and socks. He hadn’t put on the collar yet. Until he did, he could change his mind, walk out of here.

At home, Willow had been preoccupied with fixing the bot when he left. A mishap on patrol had damaged it. He didn’t really know the details, he’d been far too preoccupied. He just nodded when spoken to and hoped no one noticed. He didn’t want to tell the others anything yet. This could be a one time thing, and Xander didn’t think he could face the full Scooby firing squad over one bout of stress relief.

He’d had all day to think about tonight; it wasn’t like he could really think of anything else. He reminded himself that Spike had kissed him, had propositioned him. As improbable as it seemed, Spike gave every indication that he wanted this as much as Xander did. This couldn’t be just an elaborate scheme to mock him, could it? Spike had never mentioned Xander’s breakdown in the basement, so it seemed an unlikely goal. But that had been an understandable emotional breakdown. This could make him truly look ridiculous.

In addition, Xander needed this. The responsibility was getting to him. He sometimes felt like he was carrying the whole house on his shoulders. Everyone tried to help but, financially, it was primarily up to him. He was putting money in a college fund for Dawn, the house had needed some serious plumbing repairs lately, he put in overtime and tried to economize but when Dawn looked at him and asked for something frivolous he found it so hard to say no. He was trying so hard to keep them secure, always desperately afraid he was forgetting something vital.

If he put on this collar, he wouldn’t be responsible for anyone for a few hours. He wouldn’t even be responsible for himself, he’d be handing that over to Spike. So the real question was just how much did he trust Spike?

He finished getting undressed, put on the collar, and headed downstairs.

When he reached the bottom of the ladder, he turned to take in the room for the first time. Half a dozen pillar candles cast flickering light on a large brass bed with wrist and ankle restraints already attached to the frame. Spike stood by the foot of the bed, wearing nothing but a skin tight pair of black jeans.

Before Xander had a chance to get nervous, and without looking his direction at all, Spike said, “You kept me waiting, pet. For that you must be punished. On the bed, face up.”

Oh yeah, that was the stuff. Xander eagerly complied, stretching his arms out towards the restraints. The enticing aroma of the supple leather cuffs was comforting and familiar. Spike began buckling him in, looking him over with a considering eye. “Very nice, I like my toys eager.”

Xander breathed in and tried to calm himself down. How did Spike know what drove him crazy? Well, there was the fact that this scenario was Xander’s idea. That could have been a clue. Spike buckled the ankle restraints and slid his hand up Xander’s inner thigh pressing only his fingertips to the sensitive flesh. “Tonight you belong to me, you’re mine to play with, to tease and use as I see fit.” He locked gazes with Xander and gave a feral smile. “I’m going to take you to the edge, and I’m going to hold you there until you think you’re going to die of it. Then, I’m going to let you fly.”

There was no air in the room. There was only one answer to a statement like that, “Yes, please, Master.”

Spike let his fingers trail very lightly down the underside of Xander’s stiff cock, past his balls, over his perineum to trace the edges of the large, black butt plug Xander had put in half an hour ago. “Seems you started without me,” Spike smirked.

“I just thought, with the chip and all.” It had been well over six months since he’d done any ass play, if he was going to bottom for Spike it had seemed logical to get himself stretched out first.

Spike tapped the plug sharply, causing Xander’s explanation to dissolve into a moan. “Didn’t say I was displeased, did I?”

Spike put a little more pressure on the plug, causing Xander to arch and cry out in pleasure. Then the pressure stopped. Xander blinked open his eyes to find Spike’s face inches from his own as he straddled Xander’s body.

“So lovely,” Spike whispered. “All laid out for me like a banquet.”

He licked under Xander’s chin in a long, slow motion. Xander threw his head back in response, and Spike lavished attention on the neck he’d just exposed. Spike was very much in command here, a fierce, dangerous creature. As certain as Xander was of his safety, having a vampire paying so much attention to his neck sent a thrill of fear through him. Carnival ride fear, not “big scary monster going to eat me” fear.

Spike’s hands seemed to be everywhere, stroking his sides, playing with his nipples, dancing across his waist. When something got a reaction he repeated the motion a little harder.

Spike raised his head from Xander’s neck to stare into his eyes. “So, you like things a little rough, do you? I think I can oblige,” he said in a seductive purr, and raked a fingernail down Xander’s side.

It was a sensation right along the pleasure/pain border and Xander writhed under the assault, begging for more.

Spike gave him a wicked smile then began kissing down his chest while his fingers played with Xander’s more sensitive spots. There was a dreamlike quality to the whole scene, like a high end porn film, and Xander was enjoying his role of sexual slave.

Spike continued his downward progress. Just as he was reaching Xander’s navel, Xander’s stomach gave a loud growl.

Xander could have died on the spot. He was sorry there wasn’t enough slack in the chains, so he could at least cover his burning face with his hands.

Spike was momentarily startled by the sound right under his ear. Then a smile curved his lips and he laughed. It wasn’t mocking, humiliating laughter either. It was warm and rich, like a hot drink on a cold night. He tumbled to the side and continued guffawing for over a minute. Xander spent a few more seconds in indignant humiliation before the ludicrous nature of the situation hit him and he found himself joining in the laughter.

When he could contain his mirth Spike asked, “skip dinner, luv?”

“Well, yeah,” Xander responded. He rattled the restraint chains for emphasis. “I kind of thought it would kill the mood if I had to ask you to unchain me so that I could go to the bathroom.”

“Oh pet,” Spike said with a grin. “How little faith you have in me.”

He sprang off the bed, gave Xander an affectionate swat on the thigh and headed up the ladder. “Be right back, try not to get into trouble while I’m gone,” he called back over his shoulder.

“Very funny!” Xander yelled after him then collapsed deeper into the bed. He thought he’d planned so well. He certainly hadn’t meant to bring human bodily functions into the pillow talk here. The terrifying stray thought that Spike might have gone home and left him there had just entered his mind when the vampire in question slid down the ladder, a plastic grocery bag hanging off one arm.

“You went grocery shopping?”

“Lifted a few odds and ends from the house on my way over tonight,” Spike said as he laid the contents of the bag on the edge of the bed. Two apples, a big bunch of grapes and a large knife. He took the knife and one of the apples and began cutting it into sections. “Planned to give them to you with breakfast, but I think you need them now.”

“Breakfast? I thought we’d be heading home in a couple hours,” Xander exclaimed. Spike popped a piece of apple in his mouth.

“Eat, you’re going to need your strength. Trust me,” Spike said with a lascivious grin. He kept feeding Xander the apple pieces before he could launch a protest. “Don’t worry, I still have some of that disgusting kiddie cereal you fancy, and milk, for breakfast.”

Xander stopped trying to protest as Spike feeding him bits of apple became part of the game they were playing. Spike rubbed the sweet sticky fruit against Xander’s lower lip and raised it slightly so Xander had to lift up to bite at it. The juice ran down his chin and Spike leaned in to lick him clean.

“Course I planned for breakfast,” Spike said in between licks. “If I do this right you won’t be able to move time I’m finished with you.”

A goofy grin spread across Xander’s face. Spike had transported groceries through the cemetery for him, groceries that included Fruity Pebbles. It made him all warm and fuzzy.

Both apples were gone by this time, and Spike plucked a grape from the bunch to hold it above Xander’s mouth.

“What, not going to peel it for me?” Xander teased.

“Brat,” Spike mock growled and dropped the grape, which Xander caught, smirking as he chewed.

Spike put the next grape in his own mouth and fed Xander accompanied by a lingering, juice-drenched kiss.

They were nowhere near through the cluster of grapes before Spike asked, “So, feeling better?”

Xander was barely able to articulate an answer so he merely nodded before straining up to try to capture Spike’s lips again. Spike descended on him, his tongue exploring the roof of Xander’s mouth.

Xander was in a sensual daze, sucking in Spike’s tongue and reveling in the feel of their bodies moving together. Vaguely he realized that both of them were now naked and, very dimly, wondered when Spike had stripped off his jeans. By now Xander was straining at his bonds. He wanted to touch, to pull Spike flush against him, to wrap his arms around him and hold him close. Instead, he was flexing his hands, pulling against the comfortable restraints and being soaked in sensation.

Spike gathered both of their erections in one hand and began pumping them together. The precome leaking from both of them provided all the lube necessary and Xander arched into the silky feel of Spike’s cock rubbing against his own. He could feel his orgasm building, and he tried to hold off, tried to make the blissful stimulation last, but it had been too long and his need was too great. His world reduced down to the pulse in his cock as he flew apart, spattering both their chests with his come.

Panting with the force of his release he felt Spike’s come mingle with his own a moment later.

Thoroughly relaxed, Xander felt the air rushing in and out of his lungs as he tried to get his breath back. Spike lay pressed against his side, his fingers tracing patterns in their combined spendings on Xander’s belly and chest.

“Damn,” Xander finally gasped. “I was really planning on lasting a little longer than that.”

“S’alright, pet,” Spike soothed. “Next time we’ll take our time.”

“N-next time?” Xander asked, hope skittering around the edges of his mind.

“Got all night,” Spike assured him. His fingers ran back down to manipulate the butt plug in and out a little. “And you brought me such lovely toys.”

Xander groaned as he squirmed into the stimulation. “Spike, I’m only human, remember?”

“You’re all of twenty-one. Bet I can make you come at least twice more tonight,” Spike smirked, but his touch was gentle and only lightly arousing while Xander recovered.

“So this is your new nefarious scheme,” Xander groaned even as he spread his legs a bit more. “You’re going to kill me with sex.”

He considered what he’d just said for another minute. “Okay.”

 

Chapter Sixteen

Xander floated up to consciousness feeling more relaxed and happy than he had in months. His head was pillowed on Spike’s chest, and he was enjoying the feeling of firm, smooth skin under his cheek, warmed by his body heat to a highly agreeable temperature for napping.

Xander felt lighter inside, as well as satisfied and content. Spike had delivered the promised orgasms without ever resorting to actual sex. Xander had let him know he was willing, but Spike had insisted that the first time for that was not going to be while they were playing master and slave boy. He’d been prepared to do the full menu, but the delay made him feel valued, as if sex with him was an experience to be savored. Spike had taken such care with his body and his feelings, like he really was taking on the role of master and protector. They’d have to talk about the fact that Xander didn’t need that kind of protection, but later. Possibly much later. Spike’s words also boded well for repeat performances, which Xander was so there for.

Spike’s hand trailed lightly down Xander’s spine and he arched into the touch. He smiled into Spike’s chest and wriggled closer. By the time the collar and restraints came off the previous night Xander had been lax with relieved tension and satiation, and the only movement desired had been latching onto Spike and cuddling until he drifted off to sleep.

Spike’s fingers stroked through his hair, and Xander wished he knew how to purr. It would be so wonderful to lie there and soak up affection, but the social worker was coming over tomorrow and the house had to be in pristine condition for the inspection. With that in mind, he rolled away and stretched.

“You said something about breakfast?” Xander asked hopefully.

Spike gave him a pleased grin and waved him toward the ladder. “Mini-fridge is upstairs. Back corner.”

Xander climbed up the ladder, making sure to flex his back and ass as he did. He glanced back over his shoulder and was gratified to see Spike openly ogling. A box of Fruity Pebbles sat atop the mini-fridge in the corner. He pulled on his jeans before heading for it. A bowl and spoon were tightly wrapped in a plastic grocery bag behind the box of cereal. He knew he had a goofy grin on his face as he fixed his breakfast.

“Did the fridge keep it cold enough? Electricity is dicey in here,” Spike said as he emerged from the lower level.

“Perfect,” Xander said with his mouth full. He swallowed and added. “Where’s yours?”

“Couldn’t find a microwave on short notice and pig’s blood is even more disgusting cold,” Spike insisted. “I’ll have some back at the house.”

Mention of the house put Xander in mind of all the things he needed to do today. “What time is it?”

Spike peeked at his watch. “About ten.”

“You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long,” Xander said. He hadn’t realized he’d be spending the night and now he was running way behind schedule. He quickly wolfed down the rest of his cereal.

“Figured you could use it.”

“Slept like a very happy baby,” Xander allowed. “But I gotta head to Home Depot, right now.” He shrugged on his shirt and hurriedly pulled on socks and shoes. “Meet you back at the house?”

Spike snagged the bowl from where Xander had abandoned it. “Wouldn’t do to be seen coming in together. People might suspect,” he asserted.

Xander’s head shot up at Spike’s angry tone. He’d thought things were going well. Xander wondered if he’d done something wrong. “Well, we sure don’t want the social worker to suspect,” Xander joked, trying to recapture the good feelings of mere moments ago.

“Don’t worry, all tracks will be covered tomorrow.” The emphasis on ‘tomorrow’ confused Xander. Spike still seemed unhappy. “It’s going to be hard on the witches.”

The reason for the irritation seemed clearer now. They were all on edge waiting for the social worker’s inspection. “Yeah, it’s going to be rough.” Now that they were on the same page again Xander felt comfortable again. He thought of all the magic stuff they would need to hide, Tara’s shrines and Willow’s books. “All I have to do is shift my clothes and hold hands with my best friend. I’ve got it easy.”

What Xander expected was Spike to smile and say something about how he didn’t even have to move his clothes, since Tara would be joining him in the basement. Instead, he grimaced like he’d been struck and said in a near snarl, “See if you can’t handle that then.”

Xander wanted to stay and hash whatever had gone wrong out, but he was running too late, so he nodded and left. It had been such a spectacular night, but now he wondered if it would have been better to never show up at all.

###

Xander usually loved being in Home Depot. It made him feel competent knowing what all the various tools were for and how to use most of them. Just breathing in the smell of cut lumber could often sooth him. Not today.

Today he had neither time nor inclination to dally in his favorite spots. He grabbed the washers he needed for the leaky faucets upstairs, the paint he needed for touch up and was at the register fifteen minutes after he walked in the door. He barely managed to exchange pleasantries with the clerk, he was so consumed by the roiling cauldron of emotions this morning had inspired.

He was baffled as to what had brought on Spike’s bad humor this morning. Last night, he’d been sure they were both having a great time. Xander had been able to unwind and be pampered for a change, Spike had gotten to be all big, bad take charge guy. Exactly what they both had wanted out of the evening. Now he couldn’t help thinking he’d misjudge the whole event.

Not taking things all the way while they were doing role play had touched Xander at the time. Now, he was forced to look at it from a different angle. The whole tie me up, tie me down fantasy fulfillment meant that Xander had pretty much lain there soaking up all the wonderful attention. Not the stuff of unforgettable lovers. Maybe Spike hadn’t done more because he didn’t want to do more. Was it even possible Spike was selfless enough to do something this intimate because Xander needed it? Didn’t seem likely.

How likely was it that now Xander was conquered territory he just wanted him out of his space as quickly as possible. That he’d been used and tossed aside, the way Faith had used him. Maybe he should be grateful he’d been allowed to get dressed before he was tossed out this time.

It didn’t take a lot of thought to look at the other loves of Spike’s life and see a pattern. Drusilla was completely loony but beautiful and powerful as well with the prophetic visions and snazzy thrall she had going. Then there was Buffy, who was The Slayer, T definitely capitalized. Spike had taken down two slayers, and he never managed to come close with Buffy. Her appeal was something Xander completely understood. Harmony didn’t count. Spike treated her like shit, like a convenient blow up doll. Looking at that scale the used and tossed on his ass theory had much to recommend it.

Thoughts of finding Harmony and commiserating with her didn’t last more than a few seconds. Yes, Spike had treated her abysmally, but she was a vapid, evil vampire who would drain him dry before he could put a companionable arm around her shoulders. Also, he couldn’t stand her as a human which made it seriously unlikely he’d be able to tolerate her as a vampire.

Hurt as he was, Xander was certain that Spike had genuine affection for him. There was too much evidence that Spike considered him a friend. That meant that the only course of action available was to act as if last night never happened. He wanted Spike’s friendship much more than he wanted to confront him over this. Spike wouldn’t mention it, Xander wouldn’t mention it, and they could return to the buddy movie vibe they had going on before the kissing had clouded his brain. It sucked, like being given a sample of double fudge decadence cake and being told he could never have another piece, but he could do it.

He pulled into the driveway full of new found resolve. He just had to put the whole thing out of his mind. He had Doris Kroeger, CPS agent, to prepare for.

###

Willow was rooting around in the bot’s access panel when he came in.

“Did you work on that thing all night?”

“Not all of us have time for hot dates that keep us out all night,” Willow said with an indulgent smile.

Xander was undeterred. “You have a girlfriend, Wills. Your hot date is upstairs. Besides, the date didn’t turn out that hot,” he confessed.

“Oh Xander! But you were out all night, you even gave me the ‘don’t call me I’m getting laid’ text message,” she insisted.

“Yeah, well, in the early morning light the Xan-man wasn’t such a hot commodity anymore.” He wished he could confide in Willow, it hurt to lie to her. The fact that not all of it was a lie helped not at all. “I think I’m shelving the whole dating thing.”

“Oh no you don’t, Xander.” She stood and faced him like she planned to give him a motherly talking to. “You can’t give up just because one girl was too stupid to see how wonderful you are.”

He was far too tired and out of sorts to pull punches. Willow meant well, she really wanted him to be happy, even if she had to make him miserable to do it. Maybe he’d been wrong, maybe instead of giving up control he needed to take it. “Wills, I appreciate the fact you’re trying to help me, but back the hell off. Dating is a blood sport in this town, and I’m not doing it again for awhile, maybe a long while, maybe not ever. It’s not your job to fix me.” He waved a hand at the bot with its electronic guts exposed. “I’m not one of your science projects.”

Willow shrank into herself. She was clearly on the verge of tears as she said, “Fine.” She sat back down and turned her attention back to the bot.

This would be why he didn’t argue with Willow. Now he felt like a heel for making her upset. He knelt beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. “I’m not mad at you,” he assured.

“I’m trying to be your friend, not meddle,” she choked out.

As much as he wanted to reassure her he refused to back down. “I know, Wills, but sometimes you have a hard time seeing the difference. I’m okay, really. I’ve got my family around me. A girlfriend that wasn’t part of that would be one more complication, maybe a problem we couldn’t deal with. I think I realized that with my last date. Now isn’t the time.” The fact that his options within the group had reduced to zero didn’t need mentioning.

Willow nodded and wiped her eyes. “I just hate you being alone.”

“I won’t lie. I miss the smoochies but I’m not alone. I’m surrounded by people I love, I’m a pretty lucky guy.”

Willow hugged him back and Xander congratulated himself on holding firm. Not wanting to press his luck he asked a question to change the subject. “So, what’s the deal with the bot? More messed up than you thought?”

“No, I just want it to be perfect when Ms. Kroeger comes tomorrow. I’m scared it’s going to go off on one of its word salad rambles while she’s here.”

It was comforting to know Willow still knew the bot was an it. Although with its service panel open that was pretty undeniable. “Any idea what baddie got a piece of wonderbot?”

“Sounded like a regular vampire. I think he just got a lucky hit in. I really need to upgrade the combat programming.” She grabbed a computer printout full of lines of code he couldn’t read. He hoped she wasn’t about to try to explain the problem to him.

“Shouldn’t Giles be able to help with that? If he can train a slayer to fight, he should be able to help you program a robot to do the same thing, right?”

“If the bot were human, sure.” Willow waved the printouts as if they could explain anything. “But the technology Warren used means that the bot duplicates the movements demonstrated for it. It can be programmed to do those movements harder or faster but they’re still limited by human capabilities. Ideally, I’d model off another slayer or—“ she bit her lip and ducked her head, unwilling to voice the obvious, so Xander did it for her.

“You need Spike.”

“I really do.” She nodded sheepishly. “The bot has strength and it never tires, but it’s capable of more than human movements that it can’t duplicate without them being programmed in. I’d probably need him for a pretty long session essentially plugged in to the bot.”

“Ouch.”

“Big ouch,” she agreed.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

Willow looked away again. “I started to this morning but he’s in a really pissy mood. I don’t think his night went any better than yours did.”

Xander suppressed a growl. Why was Spike still pissy? Xander wasn’t going to jump him in the halls, surely he knew that. “He’s probably just out of sorts about the social worker inspection. I think we’re all a little on edge. I’ll talk to him about it after she’s gone. One thing at a time, right?”

“You’re right. I should close her up, start getting ready. Need any help?”

Xander considered the request, he was running short on time. “Has Tara moved her stuff downstairs yet?”

“She’s all moved in with her new hubby,” Willow tittered.

Xander smiled. “Sure you’re not worried? Spike’s a pretty sexy guy,” he teased.

“My girl is totally immune to his devilish appeal,” she said haughtily. Then her eyes turned sad. “I wish we didn’t have to pretend like this.”

“I know Wills. But we can’t take any chances, not until Dawn is eighteen at least,” he commiserated. “If you could move my stuff into your room it would be a big help. Then I could concentrate on the touch up paint and the leaky faucet.”

“Sure. It’s weird isn’t it? Four years ago, having you as my boyfriend would have been my dream come true, now it’s an annoyance.”

Xander clutched his chest and staggered back in apparent pain. “Direct hit. You’ve mortally wounded my manly ego.”

“As if you didn’t deserve it.” A wolfish grin graced Willow’s face.

Xander grinned back. Looking back to the time when Willow had her monster crush on him, Xander could see all the times he’d unintentionally hurt her. There had always been an odd tension underlying everything they did together. Overall, he liked this relationship better. “Try to keep the traffic in the kitchen low. There’s going to be wet paint in there for a couple hours.”

Willow nodded as she worked to close the bot up.

He collected a brush and edge tool and set to work on the scuffed kitchen baseboards. A combination of Spike’s short temper, Dawn’s klutziness and occasional carelessness with weapons had left them in pretty sad shape. For the short visit last month they had shoved the weapons in the garage. This was going to be a full on inspection. Giles had taken in all the magic books and paraphernalia and declared his small apartment full to bursting. It might be a good idea to store the weapons back at the crypt, which would mean talking to Spike. Damn.

He decided he could put it off until he’d finished his painting. He was concentrating so hard on his task that he almost rammed the pair of Doc Martens that appeared next to him.

“Geez Spike!” Xander complained. “I could have dumped paint all over the floor.”

Spike stared down at him in unrepentant disdain. “Thought I’d move the weapons over to the crypt, and I don’t fancy making multiple trips. Where’s that big ax of yours?”

Xander turned his attention back to his task so he wouldn’t have to look at Spike. “It had some horrible goo on it I couldn’t get off, so I propped it in the garage. How do you get Kl’arth’narg blood off anyway?”

“Vinegar,” Spike responded automatically.

Xander took in the information. They really needed to buy industrial sizes of all potential cleaners. “Listen, I don’t have time to get to it today. Do you mind storing it dirty and I’ll take care of it after we’re out of panic mode?”

“Yeah, sure.” Spike lingered. There was an elephant tap dancing in the room, and neither of them knew how to bring it up.

Seeing Spike uncomfortable eased some of Xander’s ire. “Listen, there’s more weapons than you can carry. Once it gets dark I’ll take them over in the car.”

This seemed to ease Spike a bit. “I’ll tag along, your luck you’d be eaten halfway to the crypt.”

He wandered off downstairs and Xander breathed a sigh of relief. Normalcy achieved.

Chapter Seventeen

Xander rushed back to the house after dropping Dawn off at school. He’d taken the day off work to be there when Ms. Kroeger did her inspection.

Pulling into the driveway, he parked beside an unfamiliar car. It seemed Ms. Kroeger had arrived promptly on time. The house was still standing. That was a good sign.

Willow met him at the door with a quick gesture to hurry inside.

“One teenager safely delivered to the halls of academia,” he announced for the studio audience.

Willow pulled him close and whispered in his ear, “Spike’s done a makeover, don’t act shocked.”

Spike was a problem no one knew what to do with in this circumstance. Everything about him screamed bad influence even if you didn’t know he was a vampire. Spike had offered to hide out at his crypt for the duration but had been shouted down. Unless he planned to permanently relocate they might as well face the issue now as later. Xander wondered just what kind of makeover the girls had subjected Spike to. He nodded his understanding and they stepped into the kitchen.

The Buffybot brandished a plate of cookies at him as he walked through the door. “I made chocolate chip cookies with nuts and without because some people don’t like nuts in their cookies.”

Xander reminded himself he would need to call it Buffy for the duration, even though the thought twisted his stomach. “Thanks, Buffy,” he said as he took a cookie with nuts. It seemed the only reasonable course of action.

Doris Kroeger was peering in their pantry. She was a matronly woman with dark hair and a tight mouth. She carried a clipboard, and she was making notes as she perused their shelves. He wondered what she was doing. Counting cans of ravioli? Would she tally up their lives in neat little columns that said whether or not they got to keep Dawn? Xander took Willow’s hand for reassurance. It was good for their cover, and it felt perfectly natural since they’d been pressing digits since they were five.

Xander set his cookie down and extended a hand to the CPS agent. “Hi, I’m Xander Harris.”

Ms. Kroeger turned from contemplating their canned goods to shake his hand. “I’m Doris Kroeger, pleased to meet you.” Her eyes flickered over him and at the hand clasped with Willow’s. Her expression remained neutral, and he couldn’t tell if he passed muster or not. “Now if I can meet your husband I’ll have the whole household, won’t I?” This was directed at Tara who stood to one side, darting nervous glances at the basement door.

“I’m s-sorry, ma’am,” Tara paused, trying to get her stutter under control. “W-william works nights, he’ll be right up.”

As if conjured by her words, the basement door swung open and there was Spike. Xander was glad he’d been warned, it kept his jaw from completely hitting the ground. Spike had restyled his hair into soft waves, a pair of wire-rimmed glasses softened his features even further. He wore Xander’s blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow to disguise the fact that they were too long. Where he’d found the sneakers to replace the battered Doc Martens he had no idea.

When Xander thought he couldn’t be more shocked, Spike made a courtly bow to Ms. Kroeger, took her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “William Taylor, at your service. I apologize for being tardy,” Spike said in a Masterpiece Theatre voice.

He’d gone from punk badass to college boy chic in five easy steps. If Xander had any lingering doubts about how much Spike loved Dawn, this obliterated them. His devotion was as charming as the smile Spike leveled at Ms. Kroeger that had her blushing and utterly enthralled.

It wasn’t fair, Xander thought. It wasn’t enough that Spike was sex on two legs in his normal regalia. Decked out like this, he was adorable, setting off Xander’s libido in new and different ways. Looked like that chocolate cake he couldn’t have was being served a la mode.

Willow squeezed his hand, jerking his attention back to her. The look she shot him told him he’d been staring. He gave her a lop-sided grin and she rolled her eyes at him.

“Would you like to look over our room?” Spike asked Ms. Kroeger.

She nodded, and Spike put a hand lightly on Tara’s back, like they were dance partners and he was leading her to the stairs. Tara looked uncomfortable. Not overtly so, just as if there was an itch between her shoulder blades she couldn’t scratch. It confused him but Xander put it away for future consideration.

The Buffybot followed them downstairs, playing the role of the dutiful sister worried about the inspection. He had to admit, Willow had done a good job with it.

When the group was safely out of earshot he whispered in Willow’s ear, “Which one of you talked him into that outfit?”

“He came up with it himself,” she insisted. “We just collected what he told us to get. Hope you don’t mind about your shirt.”

“Hell, no,” Xander said emphatically. “We may just pull this off. Spike’s got enough sex appeal to distract her from anything she might notice. It’s brilliant. How long has she been here?”

“About ten minutes, we’d barely gotten through the meet and greet with me, Tara and Buffy when you got here.”

“Want me to do a quick sweep upstairs?”

“Do you think I forgot something? Never mind, it couldn’t hurt,” she chided herself before she got too offended at his suggestion she might have been sloppy.

“Be right back.”

He sprinted up the stairs headed for his bedroom. The room hadn’t been converted back to its previous girly state, but they were pretty sure the style was fairly unisex and would go unnoticed. A smattering of feminine hair products and cosmetics were scattered over the dresser. Even though he’d checked the previous night, he pulled out each drawer and then scanned the closet. Buffy’s clothes and doodads replaced his.

The bathroom was a communal affair so that was safe, instead he tore into Willow and Tara’s room, scanning for anything witchy that might have been left lying around. He felt a little weird pawing through the dresser drawers, even if his stuff occupied half of them. In a jewelry box he found a pentacle that had been overlooked and shoved it into his pocket. Hiding it seemed like a safer option than the lecture Willow was likely to give about it not being a satanic symbol.

He’d only managed to do a cursory sweep when he heard steps on the stairs. He sauntered out of the bedroom projecting, he hoped, an air of helpful innocence.

“Just making sure the more vicious dust bunnies were subdued,” he joked.

Ms. Kroeger smiled but didn’t speak. He chose to take that as lack of appreciation of his humor rather than suspicion. They followed her into the master bedroom. “That’s Xander and my room,” Willow offered.

The social worker did a quick scan of the room, didn’t look under the bed or even in the closet before turning and heading for the next room. Xander was oddly disappointed, after all the prep work they had put into the ruse she wasn’t appreciating the nuances properly.

“That’s Dawn’s room,” Buffybot proclaimed unnecessarily. Who else would have boy band posters on their walls? Their inquisitor spent more time in there. The gravity of the situation had been impressed on Dawn, and her room was relatively clean. At least it had been cleared of stray dishes and dirty laundry. The bed was made, that was a major accomplishment. The clipboard was annotated again. That thing made Xander all kinds of nervous.

They trailed behind Ms. Kroeger like ducklings when she moved down the hall to the last bedroom. “That’s my room,” Buffybot declared happily.

This received an even more cursory inspection than the master bedroom had gotten. She barely stuck her head in the door. The bathroom got a much closer examination. She peered at the tile and tested the faucets. Xander was glad he’d taken the time to fix the leak. She reminded him of a building inspector all of a sudden. More marks on the omnipresent clipboard.

He and Willow exchanged worried glances. They had no idea how they were doing on Ms. Kroeger’s scale as suitable guardians. It was nerve wracking.

“I think I’ve seen everything I need to see,” she finally spoke. “I’d like to speak to all of you for a few minutes, if you don’t mind.”

“How about the living room?” Willow suggested.

“I can make coffee,” Buffybot offered. “Or do you prefer tea?”

“Coffee will be fine,” Ms. Kroeger responded.

Tara and Spike rejoined them at the base of the stairs, and they arranged themselves on the couch and chair, taking care to remain in their designated couples. Xander noticed that it took visible effort for Tara to relax, pressed up against Spike. Had they had some kind of fight? Buffybot went to make the coffee.

Ms. Kroeger looked as if she was about to deliver bad news. “There are two things I want to discuss with all of you. Firstly, are you four determined to continue this charade?”

“What charade? There is no charade,” Willow protested. She would never be a great poker player.

“W-what do you m-mean, Ms. Kroeger?” Tara tried to sound shocked.

Xander clasped Willow’s hand more firmly and kept silent, mind racing over how they could affect damage control if the jig was up. He noticed Spike giving Ms. Kroeger a speculative eye. He didn’t seem as worried as the rest of them.

“Very well,” Ms. Kroeger sounded completely unconvinced. “I’ll have to recommend that Dawn be removed.”

“What?” Xander, Willow and Tara exploded in unison.

“You can’t mean that,” Willow cried. Xander wondered if he would have to tackle her to keep her from putting a hex on the woman.

“Look, we’ll do anything you say,” Xander pleaded. “Just don’t take Dawnie away from us.”

Still in the drawing room accent Spike broke in very calmly. “Willow and Tara are together.” Spike pinned the CPS agent with a confident look. “And you don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

“This is California, Mr. Taylor,” she responded with a small smile. “If the four of you had been telling the truth, you would have represented two extremely troubled couples. That wouldn’t be good for Dawn.”

“What gave us away?” Xander asked, teasing a little to ease his panic. “Were Wills and Tara giving each other coy looks?”

“No,” Ms. Kroeger clarified. “Ms. Maclay is obviously uncomfortable in close proximity to her ‘husband.’”

Xander had to agree and it worried him, but Ms. Kroeger wasn’t finished. “I might have bought the two of you, except you stared at Mr. Taylor as if he were an éclair.”

Xander could feel the intense heat of his blush.

“I won’t out you in my report,” she reassured. “The house is in good repair, there is healthy food in the kitchen that wasn’t bought yesterday for this inspection, and Dawn is obviously in the care of people who love her very much.”

“Of course she is,” Buffybot said as she brought in the coffee. “She’s my sister.”

Ms Kroeger took her cup and smiled indulgently at the bot. “Which brings me to the other matter I wanted to discuss.”

Xander was nervous, this woman was far too clever, and they were far too bad at lying. They would have to be very careful around her, or they would have to tell her everything. Revealing all had a good chance of getting Dawn taken out of their custody for her own safety.

“Mr. Harris, I understand you’re responsible for refinishing the basement,” Ms Kroeger said, her tone so neutral he couldn’t tell if she appreciated or condemned his efforts as she referred to her notes.

“It’s just Xander,” he corrected. Where the hell was she going with a question like that? “And William and I did most of the work ourselves. We called in specialists for the plumbing and the wiring.”

“Very sound,” she said. She paused and sipped her coffee. “You do most of the maintenance around here. You’re also the primary breadwinner.”

“I’m a construction foreman. It’s what I do,” he responded tentatively.

She turned her attention to Tara, “You do most of the cooking and household chores, am I right?”

Tara nodded cautiously. “We all help. William does the laundry.”

This answer seemed to amuse Ms. Kroeger. “Ms. Rosenberg, you help Dawn with her studies?”

Guarded nods seemed the only wise response to these questions. “I help her with the math and science. William takes most of the English and history.”

Xander was afraid if someone didn’t have a role they were about to be booted off the island. Spike seemed to sense the same thing. “I’m afraid my monetary contribution must remain casual. I have no green card as of yet.”

Damn, that mellow accent was getting to Xander in all kinds of inappropriate ways.

“Which leaves you, Ms. Summers. What do you contribute?”

Bam! The trap sprang closed, and from a direction none of them had anticipated.

“I contribute,” Buffybot insisted, turning to Willow. “Tell her I contribute. I help in the kitchen, and I do the windows because Tara hates doing them and--”

Most of the color had drained from Willow’s face. Nothing was expected of the bot except a little patrolling. She reassured the bot, “Ms. Kroeger just wants to know what each of us does, don’t worry.”

The bot responded with a bright, plastic smile that had Xander looking away.

Willow addressed Ms. Kroeger. “It’s been hard for Buffy, all the responsibility since her mom died. We’ve all tried to take a little of the load off.”

“Ms. Rosenberg, it’s been almost a year, and the only member of this household not carrying a load is Ms. Summers,” Ms. Kroeger reproved. “As much as you all love Dawn, none of you are directly related to her. She isn’t your responsibility. Ms. Summers is her legal guardian. She is the one who must demonstrate a capability to care for her sister, financially as well as emotionally.”

“I don’t have any money,” Buffybot declared.

“That, my dear, is the problem,” Ms. Kroeger reiterated.

“How long do we have?” Xander interrupted. A protracted dialogue between the all too savvy Ms. Kroeger and the bot wasn’t in anyone’s best interest.

“I’ll talk with Dawn this afternoon,” she replied. “Assuming she doesn’t tell me anything surprising, I’ll file a report putting Ms. Summers on probation. I’ll expect the situation to improve by my next visit in two months.”

Ms. Kroeger gathered her things and rose to go. “I’m sorry to be harsh, but I’m thinking of Dawn’s best interests. Thank you for the coffee.”

They were still sitting in stunned silence after the door closed behind her.

“I don’t understand,” Buffybot sounded perplexed. “What is the situation? Is there something for me to slay?”

“No, it’s worse than that,” Willow said, her eyes wide with the horror and helplessness of their predicament. “You have to get a job.”

Chapter Eighteen

The tools for finding employment were sadly lacking when it came to robots, especially one whose primary functions were fighting and sex. Xander thought it was a shame they couldn’t employ the bot using the sex programming: they’d clean up. Then again, he could hear Buffy spinning like a drill bit in her grave even as he thought it.

“Oh, I know,” Willow bounced. “She can teach self-defense down at the college.”

“I don’t think it can handle that much human interaction,” Xander said without looking up from the want ads.

Willow pouted and Tara snuggled against her to comfort her. Now that they had rearranged themselves into a more natural configuration, Tara seemed much more at ease. She and Willow were both peering at the screen of the laptop hunting for inspiration. Spike had divested himself of his glasses but kept the rest of the ensemble as he paced and waited for inspiration to strike from above.

Xander had eliminated all the skilled labor jobs fairly quickly. The bot could probably be trained to file, type and answer the phone very serviceably. Problem was, first time they asked it to do something outside its programming it would say, “I don’t understand that command,” smile pleasantly and be unable to progress further. It wasn’t even suited to grunt labor at the construction site.

What they really needed was some highly repetitive, brainless job that had no variation and would be easy to program. His head shot up as revelation hit.

“Fast food!”

Three heads swiveled to face him.

Xander leaped up in his excitement. “It’s perfect! Mindless, repetitive tasks, no variation to account for, it’s perfect.”

Willow was the first to recover. “It could work. One of us would have to do the job for a week or so to learn all the routines, then we could program in the tasks.” She looked around the room as if she expected volunteers.

“Remember my role around here,” Xander insisted, backing away from her imploring stare. “Primary breadwinner. Can’t quit the construction job to work minimum wage. It would throw our budget all out of whack.”

“No green card, luv,” Spike headed her off before she could even turn puppy dog eyes on him. “Not to mention my little sun allergy.”

“Really, Sweetie,” Tara said in a devastatingly reasonable voice. “You’re the one who’ll have to program it. It makes sense for you to know what to put in.”

Willow didn’t look happy at the division of labor but was unable to come up with a convincing argument.

Christmas break was rapidly approaching. It would be the most natural thing in the world for a college student to start working at a fast food joint for the break. Eventually, Willow had to bow in the face of unassailable logic. Once finals were over, Willow would enter the workforce.

The rest of the day was spent putting the house back to its previous order. Xander took the job of packing Buffy’s clothes away. It didn’t hurt as much this time.

Willow appeared in the doorway. “Need some help?”

“Nah, I’m almost done,” he replied, piling clothes into the last box. “I’ll move my stuff back next. I think we’re safe for the time being.”

“I guess it could have been worse,” Willow conceded.

It was clear Willow was not looking forward to her new employed state. He wanted to distract her, to wipe that despondent look off her face. He was even more anxious to avoid any new pressure to get him to take the job for her. He fished her necklace out of his pocket and held it up for her. “Don’t know if this is yours or Tara’s, but I thought I’d get it out of the line of fire.”

She grabbed it out of his hand and fastened the silver chain around her neck. “Xander Harris, you’ve been going through my drawers,” she teased.

He shrugged as he packed away the last of the items. “Guess I didn’t need to bother, did I?”

“Hey, we couldn’t take any chances,” Willow assured.

“Yeah, I didn’t know what to expect from a home inspection,” Xander said, his thoughts far away. “My case worker never took it that far.”

“Sweetie,” Willow began, running a hand over his shoulder.

Xander shook off the mood. It was long ago, and it didn’t really matter anymore. “Shall we divest your room of its manly items so your blonde snugglebunny can move back in?”

Willow looked like she might argue for a moment, but then she let it drop. It didn’t take long to shift his things back to their proper places.

“Think I’ll call Giles. Grab all the magic stuff from his place and fill him in on the latest developments,” Xander said as he passed Willow with an armload of socks.

“How about the weapons?” Willow asked innocently.

Xander contemplated the mounting topics of discussion he had with Spike and decided he really couldn’t face any of them at the moment. “Later.”

Once Willow and Tara’s room was free of his influence, he called the Magic Box. Giles was anxious to hear how the visit had gone, eager enough to volunteer to help Xander load up the magic items, and so, half an hour later, Xander was walking into Giles’s flat. He swore the place didn’t look any flatter than his old apartment, no matter what the Brit insisted on calling it.

“Thank God you’ve come to relieve me of this clutter,” Giles sighed in the voice of the perpetually put upon.

The pile of magical paraphernalia wasn’t really that big, and no more cluttery than the musty books and papers Giles had strewn about. Then again, that was Giles’s clutter and if a man’s home was his castle then you couldn’t have other people’s clutter cluttering it. He smiled to himself as he started carrying things to his car. “We aim to please,” Xander chuckled. “We’ll have you back to comfortable bachelor digs in a jiffy.”

Giles helped to load the car as he asked, “What happened with the case worker’s visit?”

“Well, she saw through our little charade,” Xander couldn’t help tormenting the man just a bit.

“Good Lord!” he exclaimed.

“She was cool with the whole gay thing,” Xander relented. “Isn’t going to put it in her report or anything. All she was worried about was the fact that Buffy didn’t have a job.” He headed signs of fresh panic off at the pass. “So we’re going to introduce the bot to the joys to be found in the fast food industry.”

Giles stared at him in confusion. “Do you think it wise to place her in a job with such a high level of human interaction?”

“Giles,” Xander assured. “I had half a dozen of those jobs. I know I did several of them in my sleep. It’ll be fine.”

“As I recall your employment at those establishments was not long lived,” Giles commented dryly.

“Hey,” Xander complained indignantly, “that was because of slaying-related absences, and a distinct lack of caring.”

Giles let the comment pass. “So, Ms. Kroeger is satisfied that Dawn is in an appropriate household?”

“Soon as we prove employment of the legal guardian.” Xander nodded. “She’s coming back in a couple months to check the ‘situation’ and I expect clear sailing from there.”

Giles shifted some books into the space the girl’s stuff had occupied. “I imagine the next visit will entail less rearranging. You’ll only have to shift your clothing to the basement.”

Xander froze. “Why would I do that?”

“Clearly Ms. Kroeger thinks you are a couple,” Giles declared with infuriating calm. “She assumes Buffy occupies your room, Willow and Tara clearly reside in the master bedroom. That only leaves the basement for you and Spike to share. It’s a perfectly logical supposition.”

Xander could feel the blood drain from his face. Would Spike think he planned this? There had been enough panic at the CPS worker’s pronouncement that the bot had to get a job that he’d forgotten she’d commented on seeing him looking at Spike. The whole thing went beyond awkward and into farce.

He was still picturing just how pathetic the whole situation made him when Giles’s irritated voice broke into his thoughts. “For Heaven’s sake, Xander, no one is suggesting that you sleep with the little cretin.”

Xander winced. “No, of course not.”

###

The next week passed in a blur of activity. Willow, Tara and Dawn were deep in the grips of exams. Xander threw himself into work at the site, ostensibly to make up the time he’d taken off, which was true, but had the side benefit of keeping him from having to speak to Spike.

The Buffybot was activated to do patrol in half the town while Spike patrolled with Giles or alone in the other half. For once, the Hellmouth was giving them a break and activity was light. Spike complained he barely found enough nasties to break a sweat.

Xander watched Spike and Tara for signs of some kind of blow up. What he discovered was that nothing had changed. Tara and Spike engaged in a complex dance where they seldom intersected and never touched. He’d just never noticed how little the two of them had to do with one another. Neither appeared angry at the other, they were just uncomfortable in close proximity.

When the weekend arrived Xander decided he’d avoided the issue long enough. He’d promised Willow he would talk to Spike about training the bot, while he was at it he might as well ask him about this thing with Tara.

Saturday afternoon turned out to be a perfect time for the dreaded conversation. The girls were sequestered upstairs preparing for their last exams, he and Spike were idly flipping through the channels in the living room.

“How do you think the bot is coming along on patrolling?” Xander asked.

Spike tensed, then found the television intensely interesting, “It’s no slayer.”

“Willow thinks she could program some better fighting moves into it,” Xander baited the hook.

“Is this about me showing the sodding piece of tin how to fight?”

“Um, yeah?”

Spike huffed in exasperation. “A few new moves isn’t going to solve the problem. It’s a robot, it has no creativity. That was Buffy’s greatest strength. She’d use her surroundings, thought outside the bloody box. The bot is a box.”

Xander thought about pressing the issue, but he had to concede that Spike was right. The bot was predictable. It was a fatal flaw in a guardian of the Hellmouth. He was about to concede the point when Spike spoke again, weary resignation ringing in his voice. “Still, got to try everything don’t we? I’ll talk to Will after she’s got this whole fast food worker thing ironed out. Don’t want her to get things mixed up and have it trying to flip the latest nasty with a spatula, do we?”

Xander returned Spike’s faint smile. “Not to mention the dangers of being fired if it stakes the boss.”

“As you say.”

There is was again. Ever since Ms. Kroeger’s visit Xander had found himself paying close attention to Spike’s speech. Every now and again the street tough accent would be tempered by a hint of the more refined tones he’d used that day. He was formulating a hypothesis, but it wasn’t ready just yet. There were more pressing matters to be discussed.

“So, what did you do to Tara?”

“What?”

“She’s jittery around you,” Xander explained. “Tara is the calm, gentle center of this house, she’s got the patience of a saint and does nothing but giggle when I hug her. I’m guessing you had to do something pretty bad to her to make her that creeped out about you touching her.”

“Oh, that,” Spike replied offhandedly, as if it was no big deal. “It’s nothing I did, Harris. It’s what I am.”

“It’s true you’re a pain in the neck, but she’s dealt with the rest of us.”

“She’s a natural witch. All in tune with the Earth and such like. I’m an unnatural creature. I throw her off,” Spike said while directing his attention back to the television.

Xander pondered this for a moment. The fact that Spike was a vampire made Tara’s flesh crawl? Didn’t sound good for either of them. “Is there something we can do about it?”

Spike turned back to him with one eyebrow raised. “If you’re going to suggest Will can turn me into something more natural you can forget it.”

“No,” Xander assured, smiling a little at the suggestion. If they were teasing each other things always felt more comfortable. “Although I bet you’d make a very cute kitten.”

Spike growled at him, and it was all Xander could do not to chortle at the face he pulled. “No more of that,” Spike ground out. “Listen, Tara and I aren’t going to fly off the handle at each other. We both love Dawn too much for that.”

Xander recognized a final word when he heard it. For a time they sat back and watched the game with no more conversation than that necessary to argue about the referee’s calls.

After the game had turned into some old movie neither of them were that interested in, Spike fished the collar out of his pocket and turned to face Xander, dangling it in front of him. “Been a stressful few days, care to blow off a little steam?” Spike asked with a lecherous grin.

Xander was stunned. He thought this subject was thoroughly buried. Did he look so stressed that Spike thought he had to take pity on him again? This was not going to become a pattern, and Xander drew his line in the sand right here. “Oh no, I appreciate the offer, Spike, but I don’t accept pity fucks,” he said, striving to sound blasé.

“Are you barking?” Spike looked like Xander had just spouted off in Swahili.

Xander glowered at Spike. If Spike wanted things stated plainly he could do that. He stood because he sure wasn’t hanging around after this conversation. “It’s not like you got anything out of last time.”

Spike rose to stand an inch in front of Xander. Xander held his ground and stared him straight in the eyes.

Spike’s voice was a combination of tenderness and anger as he said, “Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t do charity work. I’ve never had anyone so responsive, someone who gave that much pure trust! Do you have any idea how damn sexy that is? I get hard just thinking about it.”

Xander wasn’t sure why Spike was pursuing this so vehemently, but he had no intention of being made a fool of again. “So damned sexy that you just about took my head off when you came upstairs. Sorry, Spike, not convincing.”

Spike broke the stare as if he was embarrassed. “Yeah, I lost my head a bit. Won’t happen again. I know the score.”

This was getting weirder by the minute, Xander had to ask, “The score?”

“That I could never be anything but a dirty little secret to you,” Spike bit out.

Xander was livid. “You think I’d do that to you?”

“Course you would, couldn’t sully your white hat hands with the likes of me now, could you?” Spike sounded resigned now. He wasn’t even listening.

Revelation hit Xander so hard he nearly staggered back. “You don’t trust me.”

“What?” That penetrated Spike’s thick vampiric skull. Xander saw the truth of his assumption in the eyes that snapped up to meet his.

A malicious anger twisted through Xander’s thoughts at that realization. He leaned over and whispered into Spike’s ear. “You’ve really missed out, Spike.” He ran one hand up Spike’s spine to tease at the nape of his neck. “You should see what I can do with my hands free to roam.” He ghosted hot breath along Spike’s neck with his words, then nibbled Spike’s earlobe just a bit. “All the wicked things I can do with my mouth.”

Spike’s eyes had fallen shut and a tremor ran through his body, fists clenched at his sides. Xander found himself very satisfied with the reaction he’d elicited. He threw his arms wide and stepped back to deliver his parting shot. “But I don’t sleep with people who don’t trust me.”

Xander walked away without looking back.

 

Chapter Nineteen

Xander seethed as he shut himself into his bedroom. Spike didn’t trust him. He’d laid himself bare for the vampire, thrown out years of justified hatred of the undead to place himself at the mercy of a creature without any. How dare Spike not trust him?

He wished he had a nice wrecking project to work on. This was the perfect mood for taking a sledgehammer to a wall or chopping firewood. Sunset was still a couple hours away, patrolling might be good. He could call Giles, see if he was up for some light violence.

He rang up the shop.

“Magic Box, how may I help you?”

“Hey Giles, you up for keeping Sunnydale safe for fast food and oblivious teenagers tonight?”

“Xander? I need to put together an order tonight. Do you have reason to believe it’s necessary? Patrols have been extremely quiet of late.”

Xander briefly considered manufacturing some hot tip to entice the watcher out with him. “Nah, just wanted to stretch the slaying muscles tonight.”

Assured there was no apocalypse bearing down on them the watcher’s voice grew distracted. “Why don’t you and Spike sweep the cemeteries then?”

Just what he needed, alone time with Spike. “Maybe, or maybe I’ll take the bot for a shakedown cruise.”

“Fine. I’m afraid I’m rather swamped at the moment. Good hunting, Xander.”

Xander said goodbye to a dead phone line.

The bot was a possibility, it was safer than going out alone, but the thing put his teeth on edge, and he couldn’t rely on it to watch his back the way he would any of the gang. Still, it was better than sitting and fuming.

It wasn’t quite dusk yet and, he wasn’t all that jazzed about asking Willow to fire up the bot for him. Dinner sounded like the perfect stall. With exams, study sessions and general insanity, family dinners were on hold. Tara had finally thrown up her hands and bought a freezer full of semi-healthy TV dinners. Xander grabbed something non-dietary and shoved it in the microwave. He didn’t feel like hanging around: too much chance of an encounter with Spike, and he’d said all he had to say to the blond menace for the time being.

He talked himself out of a beer with difficulty. In this mood one would lead to another, and then patrol would be out, and he’d be stuck at the house thinking all night. Nothing good could come of that. So instead he sipped on a Coke and stared at the timer counting down.

He’d just settled at the table with his sirloin tips and pasta when Spike emerged from the basement and made a beeline for the fridge. He rummaged for a second before pulling out a carton of pig’s blood. It wasn’t as if he had to waste time debating what to eat.

Xander hunkered down over his dinner and tried to pretend he was alone in the room. Spike didn’t seem inclined to allow that. He sprawled on the chair opposite Xander brandishing his mug of blood his direction. Xander had long since ceased to be grossed out by Spike’s eating habits. He wondered if it was a sign of mental collapse when you found a blood moustache cute.

“You up for a spot of patrolling tonight?” Spike asked as if nothing had happened earlier.

“I thought I’d take the bot to Restfield, might be some vamp activity over there,” Xander answered with a pointed glare. The bot was pretty good Spike repellent, and he wanted a large can of it right now.

Spike tipped his chair back on two legs, a study in nonchalance. “The witches going with you?”

Xander stabbed an elusive piece of meat with more violence than was strictly necessary. “No. Just me and the bot, feel free to hit the other side of town.”

The legs of the chair gave a sharp report as all four feet hit the kitchen tile at once. “The bot isn’t enough back up. Not for Restfield. You want to patrol with it, take the west side of town.”

Intrigued in spite of himself, Xander lay his fork by his mostly finished supper and leaned forward to ask, “What’s so special about Restfield?”

“It’s my territory,” Spike said as if Xander were particularly slow for needing this explained to him. “Any big nasty looking to challenge me is going to head there.”

“Cause you’re the local sheriff and the bad guys want to call you out,” Xander chuckled, picturing Spike in a white hat. He tossed the disposable tray and dropped the silverware in the sink. It was time to get moving.

“Something like that, do you listen at all when I talk to you?” Spike chastened, twisting around to follow Xander’s movements. “Far as the demon world is concerned I’m currently master of the Hellmouth and every tin pot nut job is looking to take a poke at yours truly. Tasty snack like you comes along they consider it a bonus.”

First Spike doesn’t trust him, now he insults his fighting ability. Looked like all that progress he thought they’d made was just an illusion. “Thanks for your concern, but I need something to hit tonight, and Restfield is the only place that promises any action. If I run across any of your fan club I’ll give them your regards.” His own misgivings about going out with just the bot pushed to the side, he headed up to get Willow to power the thing up.

###

Half an hour later he was reassessing that stance. The bot sashayed through the graveyard without any caution. Xander trailed in its wake, responding only occasionally to its string of babble. It didn’t seem to notice, which was fine by him. He was more concerned with tuning it out and scanning their surroundings for possible signs of attack. One of the adjustments that needed to be made to the programming was the lack of defense of teammates. All teammates that weren’t Spike at least.

In retrospect, he thought it was possible he should have listened to Spike about patrolling this cemetery with nothing but the bot for backup. Especially since he was fairly certain they were being followed by something. He didn’t hear anything, and only got a glimpse of something bright through the trees twice. Mostly it was an itching between his shoulder blades of being watched. He’d been heading to the older part of the cemetery as they walked, hoping to get amongst the bigger crypts that dotted that section before whatever it was got tired of playing cat and mouse.

Off to the right he caught another flash of something bright reflecting moonlight. Whatever it was, it was fast. Just what was gunning for Spike out here? If there were contenders for king of the Hellmouth what was Spike doing coming out here without back up?

A sufficiently large mausoleum came into view on their left, he grabbed the bot and motioned it to follow him around the side of the large structure. There was no other cover in its immediate vicinity. Their stalker would have to come around one of the sides or over the top. In either case there were enough dead leaves on the ground here that it would be hard to get close without making some noise. He set the bot to watching the less likely approach and waited.

He flattened himself against the cold granite wall, adjusting his grip on the haft of his axe while he waited for whatever it was to approach. He heard a rustle of leaves and motioned the bot to remain still. He was pretty sure it would attack if he screamed loud enough when he came face to face with the big nasty. At the moment, he hoped to get in one good hit before it knew they were lying in wait.

From the sound it had to be almost to the corner of the mausoleum. Xander sprang out with his axe already arcing in at chest height.

He barely managed to stop it mid-swing. “Spike!” he shouted in disgust.

“Careful with that thing,” Spike cautioned, leaping back. “You just about took my head off.”

Xander gritted his teeth. He should have known, how could Spike sneak up on anyone with those combat boots he habitually wore? He gripped the axe tighter to conceal the way his hands shook as he realized just how close he came to decapitating Spike. “It’s no more than you deserve if you want to sneak up on people like that.”

“Spike!” the bot chirped. “Have you come to patrol with us?”

Xander and Spike winced in tandem.

“I think there was a big nasty demon over by Riverbend,” Spike said in encouraging tones to the bot. “Go. Slay.”

“I’ll teach him to rampage in my town,” it said brightly and strode off to slay.

Xander narrowed his eyes at Spike. “That was dirty pool.” They had long since discovered that issuing contradictory commands to the bot caused it to shut down.

Spike smirked unrepentantly. “You ‘bout finished here?”

“I am now,” Xander growled. It had been a frustrating night all the way around. Spike following them was the only action there’d been all night. The whole excursion had given his ire no outlet, and he felt like a too taut bow string.

Spike slouched against the mausoleum wall. “No need to rush off on my account.”

“Yes, there is, don’t you get that, Spike? I don’t want to see you,” Xander ground out.

“That’ll be tough, living in the same house and all. Not like avoiding each other is going to solve anything,” Spike said in a voice that sounded far too mature for the hyperactive vampire.

“It’ll keep me from punching you in the face, for one thing,” Xander cautioned. He needed time and space to cool off. He really needed Spike to get out of his face with this grown up act that made him feel like a kid having a tantrum.

“This should be easier than I thought,” said a dry, deep voice from the other side of the mausoleum. Xander raised his axe to battle readiness, his argument with Spike forgotten for the moment. A tall, lean, reptilian creature strode around the structure, three others of its kind fanned out behind him.

Out of the corner of his eye Xander noticed Spike tense briefly before adopting an exaggeratedly casual air. “How’s that, then?”

“Anyone who allows their minions to show such disrespect can’t be much of a leader,” the creature responded in a mild tone.

“I’m not a minion,” Xander insisted. He felt petty the minute the words were out of his mouth.

Spike was lighting up a cigarette as if he was standing on the front porch discussing the weather. “Got no use for minions. Unreliable lot.” It felt like Spike was talking more to him than to the demons, but Xander couldn’t take his eyes off the demons long enough to be sure.

The head reptile demon snorted and sauntered closer. “The Slayer is elsewhere. I think my boys and I can take you and your lone minion,” he taunted, putting emphasis on the refuted word.

“I’m thinking not,” Spike said in the same lazy tone, drawing on his cigarette.

“Still not a minion,” Xander added with a growl, switching his anger at Spike to these new targets.

Two of the henchmen began to circle around behind them, and Xander shifted with them, taking a position at Spike’s back.

“They’re not that tough,” Spike related conversationally, “but they’re quick.”

Xander wished he had a sword rather than the heavy axe but quick short jabs should hold them back fairly well. “Poison?” he asked, remembering the Graknor with a shudder.

“Naw, but they are toothy buggers.” Then he tossed his cigarette aside. As if that was a signal of some kind, the demons pounced on them.

Xander managed to keep the two facing him back with a few swings of the axe. They ducked and swayed out of the way with no trouble, but they didn’t get any closer either. Winning wasn’t the goal here, all he had to do was keep them occupied and stay alive until Spike finished the other two.

The one on his right leapt forward, and he jabbed his axe at it, trying to keep it back. In his peripheral vision he saw the one on his left maneuver to attack Spike from behind. It looked like it might work too. Spike was wholly engaged with the leader of this little band, sparing no attention for what was going on behind him. Xander had a horrifying flash of the demon ripping into Spike’s undefended back and leaped on it, ignoring the demon that had been trying to engage him.

Taken by surprise, the demon caught the axe blade square in the back and was pinned to the ground before it could wheel on its attacker.

Remembering his other opponent, Xander spared a glance behind him. He was just in time to witness Spike breaking the neck of the leader before spinning to face their last opponent. Said opponent had taken the moment that Xander leaping away gave him to survey the new situation. With his three compatriots down he took the better part of valor and fled.

“Should we let it get away?” Xander asked while dispatching the demon he’d pinned. It was immensely satisfying to bury the axe blade in the prone demon’s neck. He wouldn’t mind chasing the last one down to repeat the process.

Spike leaned forward with his hands on his knees as if he were winded. “Might as well, can’t hurt the rep. We’ll be ten feet tall and breathe fire by the time that one’s through telling his tale.”

Xander wiped the sweat from his face with a shirt sleeve and redirected his murderous urges to Spike. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

Spike moved to lean against the wall of a crypt and said in all innocence. “Don’t know what you mean.”

Xander kept up his scowl as he indicated the dead demon at his feet. “This guy nearly had you. You weren’t paying any attention to what was happening behind you.”

It was some of Spike’s most prevalent combat advice. Always be aware of the location of all your opponents, shift your ground to keep them in sight.

Calmly Spike replied, “Didn’t have to, did I? Knew you had my back.”

Chapter Twenty

Breathing hard, adrenaline still pumping, Xander tried to decide if he wanted to punch Spike out for nearly getting killed or kiss him senseless. That Spike trusted him, and his fighting ability, enough to leave himself completely exposed like that had him bursting with pride. It was also as close to an apology as Spike was ever likely to give him.

He turned from the bodies of the three demons to Spike lounging against the crypt wall. At least it seemed like the blond was lounging, until closer inspection revealed a twitching leg and tapping fingers as hints of nervousness. How long had it been since Spike could really trust anyone? How hard was it for him to try?

Mind made up, Xander stepped over the body at his feet to press himself up against the vampire. He took that beautiful, angular face in his hands and pressed a soft, tender kiss to his mouth.

One of Spike’s hands slid into his hair, the other arm came around his waist; both pulled him closer. The kiss turned hard and hungry and was in serious danger of becoming x-rated in the middle of the cemetery.

They parted when Xander needed to gasp for breath. “My crypt’s five minutes away,” Spike offered.

“Think we can wait that long?” Xander mocked with a smile.

Spike grinned back. “Could be there in three if we run.”

“Deal.”

They took off, dodging or springing over tombstones in their path like they were five years old. They slammed into the crypt laughing like schoolboys as they tumbled together onto the floor. Xander gasped for breath while still chortling.

Spike recovered faster and started tugging at Xander’s shirt as he resumed their interrupted kissing. Spike took the pause necessitated by pulling his t-shirt over his head to pull them toward the trap door to the lower level.

“Got a bed, might as well use it,” he suggested as he dropped into the lower level.

Xander struggled out of his own t-shirt and followed by way of the ladder. A twisted ankle would so ruin the whole evening.

By the time he made it down the ladder Spike had divested himself of the last of his clothing and flung himself on the bed. He gave Xander a come hither look, and Xander was all too eager to comply. As he dived in for more passionate, devouring kisses while they both tore at his fly.

As the last of the clothing exited stage right, Spike reached to fondle Xander’s exposed cock only to have his hand slapped aside.

“My turn,” Xander said with a mischievous smile and slid down to nibble at Spike’s collarbone, pinning the blond to the bed with his body. Spike subsided, letting his hands smooth over Xander’s back and shoulders instead. Xander kissed his way down the center of the pale chest beneath him, a definite destination in mind. His fingers danced over Spike’s ribs and stomach looking for things that would make him moan. He grinned when he succeeded and laughed when Spike jerked and glowered when he hit a ticklish spot. He filed the latter locations away for future reference.

Eventually he reached his goal and had Spike’s tumescent cock against his lips. He gave the underside an experimental lick and was gratified by the twitch and moan his effort initiated.

“You’re killing me here, Xander,” he groaned.

“Not yet I’m not,” Xander corrected and took the head into his mouth.

He licked, nibbled and hummed “Rubber Ducky” while Spike writhed. Please and yes and more spilled from Spike’s mouth, along with incoherent sounds that might have been words or might have been groans, but it was all encouragement and highly ego-stroking. Xander’s mouth was too full to smile but there was an ear to ear grin lurking in his head. Ignoring his own erection in favor of fondling Spike’s balls and perineum, Xander pressed his tongue right there. Score! He made the Big Bad pant.

A little more suction, a slightly firmer stroke and he was tasting essence of Spike on his tongue. He swallowed and sat back on his heels, immensely pleased with himself.

Spike raised up on his elbows and peered down the length of the bed. “You think you’re all that and a bag of chips, don’t you?” Spike growled.

Xander’s earsplitting grin had taken up residence on his face. “Umm hmm.”

“Come here, you.” A grin now lighted Spike’s features as he levered himself up, caught Xander under the arms, and tossed him on his back onto the bed, where the brunet laughed as he bounced.

On the second bounce Spike inhaled Xander’s erection, and the laugh turned into a gasp. The advantages inherit in having a lover who didn’t need to breathe immediately apparent. Xander dug his hands into the bedding to keep from grabbing Spike’s head. Pleasure shot through him as Spike hummed what sounded like “God Save the Queen” and swallowed. Xander exploded in embarrassingly short order. He may have babbled something about Spike being the god of blowjobs.

Afterwards he lay there trying to recollect his scattered brain cells and wondering if his legs would work. Spike flopped beside him, and they lay in sated repose for a couple minutes.

“What do you say to round two?” Spike asked with a waggle of his eyebrows. He drew designs on the side of Xander’s neck with his tongue to add persuasiveness to his position.

“I say, I’d love to but we can’t.” One more session and the inevitable post coital nap would take them well into time for the girls to worry. Reluctantly, he shoved the sulking blond away. “Put the lip away, if we don’t get home the girls will think something ate us on patrol.”

“Best run home then, hadn’t you,” Spike said as he moved to the other side of the bed.

“Not like we don’t have beds at home, bleach brain,” he responded, happy to be sailing easily through the shoals of relationship disaster now that he knew what was bugging his lover.

“Yeah?” There was careful hope in Spike’s eyes, as if he expected to be shot down.

“Yeah,” Xander chided. “Gotta tell Willow first. Best friend privilege and all that. Besides, she’d probably turn me into a stink beetle if anyone else found out before her.”

“So, you’re thinking what?” It was a little disconcerting how Spike was leaving the whole big reveal up to him.

“We’ve got a Scooby meeting Tuesday night, want to just make an announcement?” he suggested as he pried himself off the bed and reached for his jeans.

“They’re not going to like it,” Spike warned, maintaining a position of neutral repose on the bed.

Xander finished zipping up his pants and leaned down for a kiss. “We’re making an announcement, not asking for permission.”

The way Spike stared at him made Xander wonder what miracle he had just performed. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah.”

Spike crawled off the bed and started gathering his clothes. There was a lightness to him that hadn’t been there a moment before. Xander just shook his head and headed up the ladder for the rest of his clothing. This had been one of Anya’s charms as well: it was so very easy to make them happy.

Not that Xander wasn’t pretty darn happy himself, even if they had to settle for a quickie this time. There would be time in the future for long sessions. Their relationship had a future now and that pleased Xander inexpressibly. Pleased as he was, he hadn’t forgotten that Spike had been taking foolish chances.

Spike joined him on the upper level as he was putting on his shoes, and Xander asked with deceptive nonchalance. “So, those clowns tonight typical of the guys wanting to take over the Hellmouth?”

“One or two are tougher, most of them are even more pathetic,” Spike said offhandedly.

Something in that sentence really bothered Xander, but he’d inquire further before exploding. That in mind he casually asked. “So, how often does this happen?”

“Once or twice a week,” Spike responded, unaware there was any problem whatsoever.

“And you were planning to tell the rest of us this when?” Xander growled.

Unperturbed, Spike strode to the crypt entrance and held the door open, motioning Xander out. Xander stomped past him but continued to stare his direction as if he could will an answer from him.

“Soon as there was a threat I couldn’t handle,” Spike answered as he started walking toward home.

“Which would be about the time some big nasty ripped your head off,” Xander vehemently declared. “You’re part of a team now, no more lone wolf patrols. Besides, I’d be really ticked if you got yourself dusted.”

There was no hint of repentance on Spike’s face. He seemed more amused than anything else. “Planning on watching my back full time?”

Xander ogled the back in question briefly; he could think of worse occupations. He forced his eyes back up to Spike’s face. This was important and it wouldn’t do to let himself get distracted. “We all watch each other’s backs here. You don’t go out alone again.”

“And if everyone’s too busy?”

It had been hard for anyone to find time to patrol the past few weeks, it had been easy to just let Spike take up the slack. That came to a screeching halt right now. “Then you don’t go out either.”

That made the vampire’s jaw drop. “You’re suggesting we leave the whole freaking Hellmouth unguarded?”

Xander was inordinately pleased with the reaction he’d elicited. “If necessary. You realize I can still tie you to a chair if I need to.”

Spike took the provocative bait like Xander knew he would. “Sure you can’t think of something more interesting to tie me to?”

“That depends, you going to play be the rules?” Sensing victory, Xander struggled to keep a smile off his face.

“Better check with the others on that one,” Spike cautioned.

“We will, Tuesday night.”

“Fine,” Spike said in a longsuffering tone that Xander was fairly certain was insincere.

“Good, I’ll go with you tomorrow and Monday.”

“That mean I get to bend you over a tombstone?” Spike leered.

“Could be,” Xander allowed, letting his grin out to play.

###

Not being suicidal, Xander waited until Willow’s exams were over before approaching her with his news. In the meantime, he and Spike patrolled, with benefits. It was fun in an illicit pleasure kind of way, but Xander found he was looking forward to getting the announcing out of the way.

After work Monday, he rushed home. Willow’s last final would be finished, and he’d have an hour or two when he could catch her alone. He slipped in the front door, noting the quiet of the house with nervous anticipation. The door to Willow and Tara’s room was ajar and he leaned in to find Willow working on her laptop.

“So, all examed out?” Xander asked with hope in his voice.

Willow nodded. “Just getting caught up on the state of weird in Sunnydale the last two weeks,” she said. “I kinda let that slip while I was studying.”

“Mind if I?” He indicated the room in general, if she was in the middle of something, this might not be the best time to talk.

“Pull up a bed, I can do this later.” She closed the laptop and gave him her full attention with a smile. “Something’s up,” she surmised, taking in his fidgeting.

Xander sank onto the bed, leaning against the headboard. He’d gone over what to say multiple times in the past two days. Now that it got to the point he couldn’t think how to start. “I wanted to tell you something, tell you first, and I’m not sure how you’re going to take it.”

Her gaze softened and she gave him an inviting smile. “You can tell me anything, silly. You know that.”

Just like that, she was his Willow, the one who loved him more than anyone else. Things hadn’t been that way for awhile, too much had come between them, but the bedrock was still there underneath. He smiled back, at ease. “Even that Spike and I are having illicit sex in graveyards?”

She started to laugh, then caught a better look at his face. “You’re not joking are you?”

“Nope,” he said with a pop. A grin split his face. He couldn’t help it; it felt so good to have it out in the open.

Willow, on the other hand, looked to be hyperventilating. He reached across and grasped her hand. “Wills, you okay?”

She stared at him like he’d grown another head. “Want to give a girl some warning before you turn her world upside down,” she complained, half joking, as she squeezed his hand back.

“Not upside down, just a little askew,” he dissembled.

“Uh huh, in one sentence you tell me you’re gay, Spike’s gay and you’ve gone from hating vampires to sleeping with them. That’s upside down, buddy,” she assured.

“Hey, still liking the women parts!” he protested. For an instant, he let himself imagine what he, Anya and Spike might have been like together. It was a nice visual, even if it was tinged with regret. “I’ve just gotten – flexible. I still hate Angel. Does that help?”

“Little Xanny in love with a vampire,” she quipped, seeming to find her footing at last in this strange conversation.

“Whoa, who said anything about love?”

Willow arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re not much for casual sex, Xand,” she spoke with the authority of long acquaintance.

“It’s not casual, it’s just--” Not for the first time, Xander wondered why women had to define things that did well enough without definition. He grappled with putting something he understood in his gut into words. “We’ve been through some intense stuff together. We’ve got a manly kind of bond going on, where we watch each other’s backs between bouts of incredibly hot sex.” His smile wavered when he saw this explanation was not budging his audience. “We’ve both lost the great loves of our lives, Wills. We’re not looking to replace them.”

Willow shook her head and gave Xander an annoyingly pitying look. “You don’t think he loves you, do you? You deserve better than that.”

“Wills, it’s not a matter of what I deserve,” he objected as he got up to pace. “Spike’s last serious relationship lasted over 100 years. He’s a long haul kind of guy, but he can’t have his long haul with me. He’s an immortal creature, I’m a human on the Hellmouth. There’s every chance I’ll be dead before I hit thirty. We understand each other, we have something good going. It’s enough.”

He stopped pacing to drop to his knees in front of her. Taking her hands he stared into her eyes, willing her to understand. “I’m happy, Wills, happier than I’ve been since Anya died. Can you be happy for me?”

Willow closed her eyes for a second, as if she was gathering her strength. When she opened them again there was a quiet sadness in them that he couldn’t quite comprehend. “It’s going to take some getting used to, but I think I can.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Everyone was seated around the dinning room table munching pizza, except for Spike, who kept hovering behind Xander’s chair. Xander picked a piece of pepperoni off his pizza and popped it in his mouth. He was too nervous to do more than nibble. This was his family, they loved him, but this was a pretty hefty bombshell he was about to drop on them. Willow had taken it fairly well, but she was pretty stunned. Now that she’d had time to think about it she might be ready to torpedo him.

He risked a glance her direction and saw her placidly eating her pizza, fingers entwined with Tara’s. She wasn’t looking his direction at all.

Giles began to ask Willow if she’d been able to catch up on the police reports. This was his moment. If he got the announcement in before the serious Scooby business, he could distract them with monsters when things got too hairy.

“Just a sec, Giles,” Xander interrupted. “Before we get neck deep in the monster mash I’d like--” He paused as he felt Spike’s hand rest lightly on his shoulder, it eased him to know he wasn’t here alone. “That is, we’d like to say something now that we’re all here.”

Everyone eyed him curiously. Willow gave him a reassuring smile. “Spike and I are together. Thought you’d want to know.”

Spike sniggered at his abrupt news, and he knew he’d be hearing about his lack of finesse later. “Sorry Giles, what were you asking?” Spike’s hand moved to the nape of his neck and, ever so slightly, Xander leaned back into the caress.

About then Giles regained use of his voice. “What has caused you to take leave of your senses this time?”

Tara was still mute but looked utterly horrified. Dawn’s expression was more hurt and confused.

Giles sprang from his chair, whipping the glasses from his face. He paced about the living room as he attempted to determine exactly when the spell had befallen Xander.

Xander knew it was hopeless but tried to dispel the idea anyway. “Nope, got all the senses I had before. My brain has been neither folded, spindled nor magically altered.”

Spike had moved toward Dawn. He crouched down to whisper something to her about Xander’s wardrobe. All he was sure about was that the moment shopping was mentioned Dawn’s face lit up, and she was practically bouncing in her seat. It looked like Spike had her well in hand.

“This is wrong, Xander.” Tara insisted. “He’s a vampire, his aura is black. Do you know what that means?”

“Stop it, all of you!” Willow’s voice rose above the din.

Willow so rarely shouted that her outburst brought immediate silence. Xander grabbed Spike’s arm, keeping him close. If things were about to take a turn for the ugly Xander wanted him where he could see him, no fair sinking into the nearest wall.

“There’s no spell, Giles.” She turned apologetic eyes on Xander. “I’m sorry, Xander, I had to check, just to make sure.”

As many times as one of them had done crazy stuff under the influence of spell or possession he could hardly blame her. “It’s fine, Wills.”

“I hated Cordelia,” there was still a touch of disapproval in the look she shot at Xander. “I thought you were insane to date her, I mean you were treasurer of the we hate Cordelia club.”

Xander was pretty sure he was never going to live that one down. Willow’s dislike for Cordy was too deep seated. She couldn’t really see that there was another side to the cheerleader apart from the cutting remarks and superior attitude.

Willow ducked her head in shame at her next words, “I didn’t like Anya much better. I never really gave her a chance.” She fidgeted, clasping and unclasping her hands as she tried to get her words out. Typically, they burst forth in a rush. “She wasn’t the type of person I thought my best friend should be involved with. Turns out I’m a big dummy, cause she’s who Xander wanted and now it’s too late, and I missed out on being there for him when he really needed me.” Willow bowed her head and took a shuddering breath like she might start crying. Xander wanted to go to her but was reluctant to release his hold on Spike.

After a second, Willow looked up again, eyes bright with unshed tears, and continued on. “Xander saw something in her, and Cordelia,” she added grudgingly, “that I didn’t, something that made him love them, and I respect his judgment.”

She chuckled a bit and glanced at Xander’s grip on Spike’s arm before giving Spike her full attention. “Actually, you have a lot in common with them. Guess you’re his type.”

She paused for a breath and then turned more serious. “You were there for him when I wasn’t. Thank you. Welcome to the family and don’t hurt him.”

Although Willow’s little speech seemed to have made no impact on either Giles’s sour expression or Tara’s unhappy hand wringing it had completely melted Xander’s heart.

“Appreciate the vote of confidence,” Spike said, sinking into the chair next to Xander at long last.

Xander couldn’t contain himself with words and leaned over to hug her fiercely. “You’re the best, Wills. The absolute best.” Then he whispered, for her ears alone. “This is when I needed you most, you always come through for me.”

“And don’t you forget it, mister,” she replied, dashing tears from her cheeks.

“As impassioned as that all was,” Giles said like a whole vat of cold water as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, glasses dangling from his hand. “I am not convinced of Xander’s good judgment in this matter. It would be unwise to rule out the possibility of thrall. Drusilla was quite adept at it, after all.”

With Willow on their side Spike seemed to have lost his reticence. “Can’t do thrall, Rupert. Never had the knack. Besides, you know what it’s like to be under the influence. Does he look it to you?”

Giles glared at him to no effect. “I’m warning you, Spike. If this is some nefarious scheme of yours—“

Spike leaned back in his chair, totally at ease. “Only nefarious scheme I had was to get in Harris’s knickers. Worked too.”

Willow blushed furiously. “Spike, young ears in the room,” she hissed.

“Oh please,” Dawn insisted with an eye roll. “Like it wasn’t obvious they were doing it. I just wonder—“

“No, no, a thousand times no,” Xander cut her off, waving his hands desperately. “There will be no wondering, ever.” A distraction was definitely in order. “Come on, isn’t anyone surprised I’m macking on a man?”

Giles glared at him, “Frankly Xander, after I observed you eyeing Wesley’s arse I despaired of you having any discernment in your sexual preferences.”

“Hey,” Xander protested. “That was just checking out the competition!”

Dawn heaved an aggrieved sigh and let it drop. Distraction accomplished.

During this exchange Xander took note of Tara slinking away from the table. This news wasn’t going over with her. Willow noticed her moving away and tried to lay a comforting hand on her. Tara jerked away from her touch and fled up the stairs. Willow looked ready to cry again.

Xander was intensely grateful for Willow’s support, but he’d never forgive himself if it damaged her relationship with Tara.

“Spike is an evil, soulless creature who revels in causing misery and destruction,” Giles insisted, leaning forward over the back of a dining room chair.

“Well, yeah,” Xander allowed. “Not telling me anything I didn’t know. I’m a big boy, Giles. I’m not being magically influenced so this is my decision to make. Let’s get back to the topic at hand.”

“Which is? I’ve quite forgotten in this rash of insanity.” Giles said with deep sarcasm as he sank back into his chair.

Spike had moved over to a distraught Willow and was whispering something to her. They both cast quick glances up the stairs so he assumed they were discussing Tara. He wanted to be over there, doing the comforting thing and smoothing the problems between his two favorite witches. Then he saw something Spike said make her smile, just a little, and he had to concede Spike seemed to be doing fine on his own. He plastered on a smile and addressed Giles. “Hellmouth business, what else?”

“Duh, Giles,” Dawn chirped. She was getting far too much enjoyment out of the chaos. “Did you forget why you called this meeting?”

“Spike and I have been patrolling the last few nights,” Xander hurried on, hoping to rush past the watcher’s outburst. “Turns out mister macho over here,” he thrust a finger at Spike, “has been fighting off a couple contenders a week for lord of the Hellmouth, and not telling us about it.”

Spike didn’t even have the grace to look ashamed, but he and Willow did disengage from their private consult. “Not the biggest problem we’ve got,” Spike replied. “What I’ve been fighting were small fry. My guess is the real contenders are keeping a low profile, letting us clear the field before they make a move.”

“I hate to be the bearer of more bad news,” Willow interjected shyly. “But people have been disappearing at a steady rate, one or two a night for the past two weeks, but no bodies have been found, and we’re not seeing an increase in the number of vampires. Could be someone is hiding the bodies really well, or it could be something nastier.”

“Most likely a larder,” Giles speculated with a penetrating look cast at Spike.

“Ew.” Dawn scrunched up her nose in distaste. “Larder for what? Do we have any idea what grabbed them?”

Trust Willow to already have her information cross indexed. “Each of the victims was last seen exiting a club with an attractive member of the opposite sex. But none of the descriptions match up.”

“Could be a lot of different vamps,” Xander offered.

“One for each? Not enough to feed a large group of vampires for two weeks,” Spike said, scowling in thought. “My guess is a shape shifter of some kind.”

Giles was nibbling on the end of his glasses, animosity forgotten for the moment with a puzzle in front of him. “Agreed, or at least something that can project a variety of human guises. Although I doubt it’s the main threat. Most shape shifters aren’t powerful enough to lay claim to large territories.”

“Especially prime real estate like the Hellmouth,” Willow concurred. “So we’re looking for shape shifters that work with other demons, huh?”

“Research!” Dawn’s excitement was unsettling. Xander couldn’t help but think Giles had corrupted her.

“Willow, was there any commonality between these people the victims left with? Distinguishing marks, a piece of jewelry?” Giles asked while leafing through a tome.

Willow shook her head. “Nothing was mentioned but I doubt people were paying close attention.”

“Goody,” Xander sighed snagging a book off the stack. “Oh well, how many shape shifters can there be?”

Willow and Dawn both threw paper wads at his head. “Are you trying to jinx us?” Willow demanded.

Xander looked sheepish. Spike rose and stretched, a carefree smile gracing his features. “While you lot hit the books, think I’ll go shake down a few demons for information.”

“You’re not patrolling alone,” Xander stated with finality.

“Just shaking down some snitches, pet,” he raised Xander’s face to his with the tips of his fingers. “Don’t worry so.” Then he laid a passionate kiss on him.

Xander was unable to speak in protest until Spike was already out the door.

Willow blushed and buried her head in her book, Giles polished his glasses furiously, but Dawn felt no need to be circumspect. “That was seriously hot,” she declared with a little fanning motion.

Xander ducked his head and pretended to read, but he was in absolute agreement with the sentiment.

###

As it turned out, there were over forty different demons that could mimic humans. Fortunately, there were fewer than twenty that could do the variety pack. They went out on a bit of a limb and reduced it to the seven who could do both men and women, on the assumption that there was only one creature.

By midnight even Dawn’s enthusiasm had begun to flag. There was just no way to narrow the field further without more information. After agreeing to resume the search in the morning, Giles packed up and headed home. Dawn and Willow headed upstairs but Xander couldn’t sleep. He was tired enough, but the fact was he and Spike had never discussed the night’s sleeping arrangements, which left him uncertain where to lay his weary head. He was fairly certain he would be welcome in the bed downstairs, but presuming might initiate an awkward situation. Crashing upstairs could send a message he didn’t mean.

It was a great relief when he heard the key in the lock around one thirty.

“What are you doing still up?” Spike asked, scowling at him as if he were an errant school boy up past his bedtime.

Xander rubbed the back of his neck, looking down in uncertainty. “Thing is, we never talked sleeping arrangements.”

“Bed upstairs is a mite small for both of us,” Spike pointed out, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“Big bed downstairs though,” Xander allowed with an answering grin. Spike slid the lock home as they descended the stairs. Xander was eager to get to sleep, but he couldn’t help asking, “What did you find out?”

“Best way to get people to talk is have them tell you things they think you already know,” Spike said as he started stripping. “Complain loudly enough about the unfairness of the big boys using a shape shifter to do their dirty work and eventually someone lets slip it’s a Teckla demon.”

Xander remembered reading about Tecklas, they were on their short list. He whistled as he divested himself of shoes and socks. The things fed on terror. They got in your head and manufactured your worst fears.

Spike pulled off his shirt and continued, “Vampire clan running the show gets fresh blood, Teckla gets fed, no bodies to alert the Slayer, everybody’s happy.”

“Except the victims,” Xander pointed out, he felt sick to his stomach.

“Yep,” Spike conceded without a hint of sympathy. “They get insane.”

“So where are they?”

“No one knows. Must be planning an iron fist approach because they’ve already wiped out a few nests of vampires we didn’t know about. Don’t like the competition it seems. So we’re not the only ones looking.” Spike crawled into bed, eyeing Xander like he was hoping for more than sleep.

Xander wasn’t in the mood. Not with images of terrified insane people being fed on by laughing vampires running through his head. It wasn’t an image he wanted to go to sleep with either, so he changed the subject. “What were you and Willow whispering about?”

Spike put his hands behind his head, a smug look on his face. “Just assuring harmony at home.”

“Spike, what are you planning?” The vampire’s ease spelled trouble as far as Xander could see.

Spike grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the bed. “Nothing you’ll object to. Don’t fret, luv. Just bringing the family back together. I’ll take the witch, you take the watcher and everything will work out. You’ll see.”

As he sank into Spike’s good night kiss, he gave up arguing and just hoped Spike was right.

Twenty-two

The claxon of the alarm went off five minutes after Xander went to sleep. Despite the fact the clock was telling him it had been five hours, he knew it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. There was obviously a time warp at work here.

He slapped off the alarm and then disentangled himself from the vampire attached to him like a limpet. Spike barely woke up enough to burrow deeper into the covers after the loss of his hot blood bottle.

Stumbling into the bathroom, he discovered that his toiletries had migrated downstairs during the night. He grinned, wondering if this was Spike’s idea of subtlety.

The shower helped him wake up, at least enough to worry. Spike could be obnoxiously charming when he put his mind to it, but Tara was immune. Still, Spike didn’t seem worried and he had Willow in his corner. Maybe something could be worked out that would let the blonde witch at least occupy the same room with the two of them.

His own situation might prove to be the more harrowing. Giles was going to come at him with watcherly disapproval and vast amounts of well researched arguments. All he had was his gut feeling and a dating track record that didn’t stand up well to close examination.

He pulled away enough cover to find skin and kissed his bed partner goodbye. A sleepy mumble was the only response and he reburied the blond. He’d think of something to tell Giles.

###

He called Giles from work and gave him the rundown on what Spike had discovered the previous night. Predictably, he asked to see Xander after work to discuss the situation. Xander doubted that the situation he wanted to discuss had to do with the Teckla. Nevertheless, he agreed to attend the firing squad as soon as his shift ended.

He managed to work a full four hours before anxiety goaded him into calling to check in on the situation at home.

“’Lo,” answered a British baritone voice.

Relief that Spike hadn’t been messily disposed of caused Xander to catch his breath rather than reply. He hadn’t realized just how worried he was until that moment.

Spike’s voice turned irritated. “We don’t need your soddin’ wonder whisk!”

“Spike, it’s me,” Xander intervened before Spike could start insulting his heritage. “Just wanted to see how it was going.”

All signs of irritation melted out of Spike’s voice. “Lookin’ for a little phone sex? I could be persuaded,” he teased.

Xander was fairly sure his face was beet red as he hissed, “Spike, I’m at work.”

“Can’t blame a bloke for trying,” Spike insisted. “Will’s gone off for her first day at hamburger hell. Tara and the Bit are off to the grocers. It’s bloody boring around here.”

“Enjoy it while you can,” Xander advised, sinking into his chair in relief. “We don’t get boring often enough.” Like a sore tooth you just can’t stop poking with your tongue, the source of his unease demanded attention. “So, you haven’t talked to Tara yet?”

“It’s taken care of Xander,” Spike assured far too smoothly. “You worry about Rupert.”

“I’ll be home late,” Xander groaned, he leaned back in his chair, feeling the headache rapidly approaching. “I’m sure I’ll be grilled extra crispy after Giles is through with me.”

“Good, that’ll give Lil Bit and me more time to move your things downstairs. I’ve a tragic accident planned for some of your clothes.” There was an unconscionable amount of glee in Spike’s voice.

“Hey, I need those!” Xander sprang forward in his seat, indignation ringing in his voice. “Most of those are work clothes.”

“Most of them are bloody awful,” Spike retaliated. “Don’t worry, Dawn’s shopping for some decent ones for you.”

The light dawned for Xander. “That’s what you and she were whispering about.”

“Makes her feel a part of things. Involved.”

“I guess that’s worth the loss of a few shirts,” Xander allowed. “Just leave me my suit and a few of my old clothes, please.”

“Not to worry, pet. I’ll leave a couple hideous Hawaiian shirts but that blue monstrosity has to go.”

“My Aunt Carol gave me that. Burn away,” Xander said magnanimously. “I’d better get back to work.”

“Good luck, pet.”

“Thanks, I think I’ll need it. You be careful.”

A rude noise was his only answer. It seems vampires weren’t told to be careful. Xander chuckled and got back to work. He had a command performance this evening.

###

Giles’s door loomed larger than it should in the little courtyard. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door and let out a cheery hello.

Giles was seated at his desk, stacks of dusty tomes surrounding him. “Xander, I’m glad you could make it.” He sounded like Giles always did at the beginning of a research session. For a few minutes he hoped this would go like any of a hundred other research parties. “I’ve been studying the Teckla in depth. As it becomes incorporeal to feed, it will be extraordinarily difficult to defeat.”

“Yeah, they looked pretty nasty. I don’t remember seeing anything that took them out,” Xander said, grabbing the book Giles handed him.

“In their corporeal forms they are not particularly fearsome, however, once inside the victim’s mind they can manipulate the subconscious to bring to the fore one’s greatest fears. All they need to gain entrance is physical contact, so fighting them becomes extremely problematic. Skin to skin contact is not necessary.”

“Sounds like we need a good distance weapon,” Xander said, dropping onto the couch and leafing through the book in his hands.

“That will do us little good unless we can positively identify it,” Giles growled. “Which is deucedly difficult until they attack. It is also beside the point until we can find their location.”

“Spike says these guys aren’t making friends in the demon community either, at the moment. None of his snitches know where they’re holed up.” Xander grimaced at a woodcut of the Teckla in its natural form. It was an ugly critter to have romping through your mind.

“I suppose we are to take Spike’s word on that,” Giles said in a snippy tone.

Xander closed his eyes and counted to ten. He’d known this was the real reason he’d been asked over. He’d just hoped to delay it a little longer. “Yes, Giles. We trust him to beat up demons, give us the information, to babysit Dawn and to patrol. We’ve been doing it for over a year now. Why would that change now?”

“Before,” Giles kept his eyes on the book in his hands as if his attention was primarily directed there. “I didn’t question your judgment where a murdering beast such as Spike was concerned.”

If there was a faint hope of letting the subject drop, Xander wanted to seize it, so he turned back to his own book, poring over it for weaknesses. There were plenty. The Teckla was as vulnerable as a normal human in its corporeal form. Problem was, it was undistinguishable from a normal human as well and could appear as a wide variety of them. It would only revert to type once killed. ‘Great,’ Xander thought, ‘all we have to do is kill anyone we suspect of being the Teckla. If the body stays human, we say oops.’ Sometimes he hated this business.

He was absorbed enough in what he was reading to not hear Giles come up behind him. “I have something I would like you to read,” he announced, handing another thick book to Xander.

The book he had been perusing hadn’t given any new insight, so Xander shut it in favor of the next book. Opening it to the first page, he found it principally concerned the Master. While he was all for reviewing victories of the past, he didn’t see how this would help them now. Searching for relevance, he asked, “did the Master use a Teckla at some point?”

“It details the more notorious vampires in the Aurelian line. I thought it wise for you to know just what sort of creature shared your bed,” Giles huffed.

Xander slammed the book closed. This was too far. He leapt to his feet and brandished the book at the older man like he contemplated throwing it at him. “Tell me, did you do this to Buffy when she started dating fucking Angelus?”

“I didn’t particularly approve of Buffy’s affair, but his soul was a mitigating factor, far more so than a simple electronic leash.” They were both on their feet now, shouting from semi-neutral corners. “As I recall, even the soul wasn’t enough for you.”

“I was jealous, Giles!” Exasperation threaded through his voice. “Then he lost the soul like it was a set of keys or something and people I loved died, and it looked like Buffy was willing to just let it keep happening if there was a hope she could get her boyfriend back.”

“Just what do you expect to happen once Spike’s chip ceases to function?”

“I don’t know,” Xander slumped back to the couch. It was a question he didn’t like to ponder too much himself. “If I’m really lucky, I’ll be dead and gone by the time that happens. I do know he won’t go on a murderous rampage and try to kill us all.”

“Why not? Are you so naïve you think he’s changed that much?” Sensing weakness Giles pressed forward.

“He won’t try to kill us,” Xander insisted. “That’s not Spike.” Xander’s fingers flexed on the book for a moment as he gathered his patience and his next words, he waved the book Giles had handed him. “I’ll read this book if it’ll make you feel better, Giles. I doubt it’ll tell me anything I don’t already know. If Spike’s done something Anya hasn’t at some point in her past, I’ll have to give him points for creativity. Probably right after I throw up. The thing is, the Watchers that wrote this didn’t know Spike, not like I do.”

“I should hope not,” Giles sighed, sinking into the couch beside him.

“He’s not your everyday vampire,” Xander held onto his temper with both hands.

“No, I dare say he’s not,” Giles admitted.

“Spike becomes whatever the person he’s devoted to needs him to be,” Xander explained. He laid a hand on the book. “This is full of all the things he did when he was devoted to Drusilla. She needed him to be a bad ass, monster and devourer of the innocent, so he was. Buffy needed him to be a hero, and he tried his best to be one.”

Skepticism rolled off Giles like a cologne. “According to your theory, now that he’s devoted to you, he will behave accordingly?”

Xander shook his head at the misreading, “He’s not devoted to me.” He rethought that sentence at Giles’s raised eyebrow. “Okay, he is … but I’m not his primary anchor. Dawn is. She needs a big, scary monster protector, and he’s very good at protector mode.”

Now Giles was giving Xander his puzzled face, and Xander was attempting not to laugh. “You are romantically involved with Spike; I would presume that would make you his first concern.”

Xander did laugh at that. “Trust me, if Dawn and I were both in trouble, Spike wouldn’t even look my way before running to rescue her.”

This did not allay the puzzled factor. “Wouldn’t you expect to rank higher than that in his estimation?”

Xander had hoped he wouldn’t have to explain the vagaries of his relationship with Spike to Giles. Old and stuffy he may be but he was a man. With a sigh he explained. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m important to him, just like he’s important to me. Dawn’s just more important, and I’m thinking that’s the way it should be.”

Giles shook his head, his argument completely derailed. “Sometimes I don’t understand what goes on in your mind,” he groused.

Xander had already dismissed the argument. He’d said all he planned to say on the subject. But the exasperated words sparked an odd connection for him. “Giles, that’s it!” he exclaimed.

###

“Spike!” Xander called as soon as he got inside. He wanted to assure himself his lover had made it through his confrontation with Tara intact. “Where are you?”

Spike emerged from the kitchen with a mug of blood clasped in his hand. “Bout time you got home. I was starting to worry the Watcher had you chained up in his tub.”

“Nah,” Xander waved Spike’s concern off as he bounced onto the couch, leaving plenty of room for Spike to join him. “I baffled him with my witty repartee and slipped out while he was regrouping. How did things go with Tara?”

Spike dropped to the couch next to him. “All worked out,” he said dismissively. “What did Rupert say about the Teckla?”

A wave of Spike’s hand was not going to mollify him on the Tara issue. “Just like that? What happened? You didn’t convince Willow to do a spell, did you?”

Spike looked genuinely appalled at the suggestion. “Are you brain damaged? Don’t fancy chasing flies for dinner the rest of my life. I just talked to her, she’s a smart girl, she saw reason.”

Xander leveled a disbelieving stare at him. “Guess I’ll have to ask her what happened,” he said, rising from the couch to suit word to action.

Spike’s hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down to the couch. “Fine.” His disgruntlement at being caught out evident in his tone. “I offered to let her do whatever it took to make her feel better about things, geas, truth spell, whatever.”

“You what!” Xander exploded, grabbing Spike’s shoulders. “You told a white witch she could do what she liked to a soulless demon? Do you have any idea what she could have done to you?”

Spike pried Xander’s hands away testily. “Would you pipe down? Course I knew, just like I knew she wouldn’t. She’s got no interest in hurting me or you. She did a reading, salt circle, a little incense, holding hands.”

“What did she see?” Xander asked, curious despite his worry.

“That Spike is an evil, soulless killer,” Tara answered as she and Willow descended the stairs. “Who is utterly devoted to the people in this family.”

Tara’s smile was still a little tentative but she seemed content with things. Willow was beaming as she took up the explanation. “As far as we’re concerned, his motives are pure.”

Spike snickered.

“Well, unharmful, at any rate,” Willow amended, eyeing Xander. “Just keep the naughty stuff under wraps, okay.”

Xander found himself blushing furiously. Spike, naturally, was spurred to come up with something provocative in response. “I was thinking a little foursome action might be nice,” he got out before Xander clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Where’s Dawn?” he asked hopelessly, certain she was upstairs drinking in every word.

“At Janice’s,” Willow assured him, “which is the only reason you’re not in big trouble right now, mister.” She glowered at Spike. Spike was too busy playing his tongue over Xander’s palm to notice. Xander removed his hand a bit reluctantly.

Obviously desperate for a change of topic Tara asked, “What did Mr. Giles have to say about the Teckla?”

“Oh,” Xander squirmed in his seat just a bit. “Well, it’s probably going to take all of us to take it down. You can’t tell it’s our monster when it’s corporeal, so we were thinking we could attack it while it’s incorporeal.”

“You want to hit it while it’s feeding?” Spike asked incredulous.

Giles entered carrying a stack of books. Willow grabbed a couple off the top that looked in danger of toppling to the ground. “Oh good, you’re all here,” Giles said, making his way to the dining room table. “Has Xander filled you in on his plan?”

Spike pinned Xander to the couch with a suspicious glare. “He’d just mentioned someone playing bait for this thing. Just who’d you have in mind, luv.”

Xander squirmed a bit more and gave the answer everyone already knew. “Me.”

Chapter Twenty Three

“Absolutely not,” Spike growled.

“No, it makes sense,” Xander insisted. “It’s about time my demon magnet status came in handy. I let them chat me up, lead me to their base with all of you following, and we put the smackdown on them.”

Spike’s eyes flashed golden in his fury and he leveled a glare at Willow and Tara behind Xander.

“Don’t look at us,” Willow placated. “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

Giles was remaining annoyingly quiet. He’d given the plan his approval back at his place. Sure, he’d amended it and demanded more research, but approval was had. Xander stepped forward and put a hand on Spike’s shoulder. “Don’t you think you should hear the whole plan before you start going all grr about it?”

Spike knocked his hand away. “Don’t have to hear any more to know I hate it. I can’t believe you had the gall to yell at me for letting Tara get a little reassurance when you had this idiocy in your brain.”

Xander crossed his arms as his own anger began to simmer. “I wouldn’t be going in defenseless. We have two witches who specialize in mind mojo to shield me up. Not to mention you’d all be tailing me the whole time.”

Spike didn’t budge an inch, his finger jabbing at Xander’s breastbone as he strove to drive his point home. “While this thing tries to shred your sanity with the worst nightmares you’ve got stored in your noggin.”

“No,” Xander challenged, knocking the jabbing finger away. “While I’m killing it, using the weapon our resident Watcher and witches are going to come up with for me.”

Leaning in until his face was a mere inch from Spike’s ridges and fangs, Xander went for the killing stroke. “I can do this Spike, or was all that training just humoring the defenseless human?”

Apparently, it wasn’t as much of a killing stroke as he thought because Spike immediately struck back. “We’re talking about some evil nasty taking over your subconscious, moronboy, not a good, honest brawl.”

“While rash, I believe it is a workable plan.” Giles spoke with a certainty of being listened to.

Spike transferred his hard glare from Xander to Giles. “You approve of this shite?”

“With proper research and preparation, yes.”

“I think,” Tara whispered. “I have s-some books on m-mental shielding upstairs.” Then she bolted from the field of battle. Xander didn’t expect her to return anytime soon. All the shouting so far, and the shouting to come, must grate on her nerves like sandpaper.

“Such a good plan, how about you play the bait then,” Spike suggested silkily.

Xander noted a touch of embarrassment creep into Giles’s demeanor. “I’m afraid I don’t fit the profile. Thus far all the victims have been between the ages of 18 and 25.”

“Young meat,” Spike sighed, like he could taste it on his tongue.

Xander wrested Spike’s attention back before things could degenerate further. “You’re not an option because tecklas can’t affect vampires.” He stared into Spike’s eyes, daring him to suggest one of the girls play bait in his place.

“Which would explain a vampire clan working with one, because otherwise you’re not so much partners as dinner, and who wants that?” Willow chimed in, mind ticking over the plan as she talked. “I’ve been working with Dawn on an athame. I bet with some tweaking we could make it a mental weapon.” She began sorting through the stack of books on the table and muttering to herself.

“Fine,” Spike conceded. “Stay here, do your research, make your plans. I’m going to take this town apart until I find these fuckers, and bring back this thing’s head.”

Spike’s dramatic storming away was spoiled by Xander’s hand on his sleeve. “Hold up. I’m coming with you.”

Spike looked heavenward as if seeking strength or divine intervention. “I’ll be going to some pretty dangerous places, Xander.”

“That’s why I’m going with you,” Xander replied in what he knew was an irritating tone.

“Don’t have any of your fancy protection or weapons now,” Spike said. “We find these wankers you head for the hills. Don’t want that slimy thing getting its mitts on you.”

“Agreed.” Xander had no desire to take on something that could attack him with his own worst nightmares without some powerful protection at his back. He was also relatively certain they weren’t going to find the vampire clan tonight, and Spike might just do something stupid trying.

Spike gave a sharp nod and headed for the door. Xander grabbed his favorite ax and headed for the door. Before exiting, he glanced back at Giles, curious how the man would interpret the scene he’d just witnessed. The inscrutable expression on the older man’s face was as unrevealing as his neutral “good luck” just before he returned to his books.

###

They hadn’t gone far before the silence started getting to Xander, so he filled it with chatter. “Where are you going to go that you haven’t already tried, Spike? Didn’t you terrify the snitches enough the first time around?”

Xander meant the comment to be joking, but Spike was not in the mood for humor. “Terrified them plenty. This clan plans to take over the Hellmouth, they either have to kill me, or get me to bend the knee to them. Can’t say I’m fond of either option.”

“So,” Xander cut back on the teasing tone as anxiety over what Spike might be planning took over. “What is the plan? What haven’t you tried already?”

Spike snarled his answer. “Was planning on checking out every crypt, abandoned building and tunnel in this stinking town. The bloody pillocks have to be hiding somewhere.”

Xander gaped at him. “Spike, that would take months, possibly years. The Mayor built this town for demons, and there have to be hundreds of miles of tunnels under us.”

“Well, I don’t see letting that slimy creature into your head. Why’d you think of something like that anyway?” Spike’s brows crashed down in consternation.

“Because it’s impossible to tell the Teckla from a human until it attacks,” Xander explained, knowing Spike wouldn’t understand. “I don’t want someone getting hurt because we made a mistake.”

“How about this then? Give me a gun, a real one mind, and I point it at whoever’s making moves in the bars. If I don’t get a headache I pull the trigger,” Spike said with calm logic.

Xander rubbed the back of his neck to stave off the headache this conversation was giving him. “There are so many problems with that plan I don’t know where to begin.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Spike was legitimately puzzled.

“For one thing,” Xander hissed. “The minute you pull a gun in a bar you’re going to have security all over you. Human security. I’d really rather not think about what could happen to you if you got arrested.”

“You don’t give me any credit for subtlety, do you? This coat hides a multitude of sins.” Spike curled his tongue behind his teeth and grinned just so Xander would have no doubts about what kind of sins it did, and sometimes didn’t, hide.

Xander chose to ignore the display, sticking with his serious objections. “Even if you could conceal it and, let’s face it, with the number of people hitting on each other in these places you’d be having a migraine every five minutes. I don’t consider you rolling around on the floor in pain a viable option.”

“Beats the hell out of you letting this thing tap dance through your cranium.”

Xander stopped and leaned on his ax. It said something about the mindset of this town that he was certain Spike with a gun would be noticed, but a bunch of people lugging medieval weaponry never were. “Okay, give me a viable alternative, one that won’t take six months.”

“There is something else we can try,” Spike allowed, his eyes running appraisingly over Xander head to foot. “If you’re willing that is.”

“I’m going to have to sit down for this, aren’t I?” Xander had begun to wonder if following Spike out was such a good idea after all.

“You’re a tasty treat, we get you into some proper clothes. How’d you feel about playing my pet for the evening?”

Xander’s heart skipped a couple beats and he thudded against the wall they were walking beside. “Your pet,” he choked out.

Spike nodded, entirely serious. “There’s a demon club just outside town, strictly high rollers, aristocratic,” Spike said the word as if it tasted bad. “Just possible they might know about powerful players rolling into town. Keep track of high profile bloodlines and such like. Don’t let vampires without pets among them, they consider hunting common.”

Xander attempted to jumpstart his brain, but he suspected he was a few steps behind since he couldn’t quite get over the part where he’d be playing Spike’s pet. A nice little fantasy in the privacy of Spike’s crypt was one thing, this was something else. This was like Angel gripping him around the neck and offering him to Spike as a snack. He did the only thing he could think of: stalled for time. “Why haven’t we cleaned them out before now?”

Spike rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall Xander was currently propping up. “Told you, they don’t hunt, consider it beneath them.” His voice said “stupid wanker” but the hand that had crept up to massage the back of his neck said something more tender. “Also, the place is a fortress, with heavy security. Much more trouble than it’s worth to take out a bunch of demons that aren’t hurting anybody.”

Xander blinked at this bizarre concept. He was afraid he knew the answer but he still felt compelled to ask. “How do pets figure into this little scenario?”

“Vampire’s gotta eat.” Spike’s reasonableness set Xander’s teeth on edge. “Got enough human pets, no need to hunt. You’d be surprised how many stupid humans think it’s sexy being a demon’s pet.”

Xander’s scowl only made Spike smile more broadly. “Pets for real: human cattle,” Spike clarified, then leaned forward and kissed him gently. Xander melted into the feel of Spike pressed against him, allowed it to calm his anger and irritation.

“What would I have to do?” Xander found himself willing to consider the plan; they could really use more information.

“Dress nice, walk behind me with your eyes down and your mouth shut. Look pretty sitting at my feet once we’re inside. Think you could handle that?” Spike was laughing at him with his eyes. He clearly expected Xander to refuse. Why, he wasn’t sure, but there was an angle. There had to be.

“Okay,” he breathed, calling Spike’s bluff.

The quiet answer snapped Spike to attention. Xander saw calculations dance behind his partner’s eyes before the shocked expression melted into a considering look that Xander found a bit worrisome. “Got your wallet?”

“Yeah,” Xander replied with caution. “Why?”

Spike pulled him away from the wall and toward downtown. “We’re going shopping.”

###

“Mind telling me why I just shelled out a thousand bucks for clothes?” Xander demanded while unlocking the back door to the Magic Box.

“It was barely eight hundred. Quality costs money,” Spike assured him. “If we’re going to walk into this place, we’ve got to look the part.”

Xander retrieved his ax from the corner where he’d stashed it before their impromptu shopping trip. Here he’d thought having a male significant other would mean he’d never have to endure another shopping trip. Still, he had to admit that he’d breathed a sigh of relief when he found out they were headed for a men’s suit store rather than some weird fetish place. “It’s still a lot of money, Spike.”

“It’s not like I make a habit of this.” Spike’s innocent act could use some work. “I haven’t had a bespoke suit in an age.” He shuddered. “Thank hell we don’t have starched collars anymore.”

“Bespoke? Okay now you’re speaking in some strange foreign language,” Xander insisted. Weapons retrieved, they headed back out into the night.

“It’s called English, you twit. Means custom made.”

“If you say so,” Xander snickered. “Where are we going?”

Spike’s put upon expression gave way to a grimly clenched jaw and a faster pace. “Got a couple of possible leads last night, places this gang might hole up. Thought we could try them first.”

“Sounds good.” Xander matched Spike’s stride as he strove to focus in on the present danger, the possibility of encountering a vampire clan and a teckla. Instead, his mind kept racing back to where they were going tomorrow night, after picking up Spike’s tailored suit. “Will I need to wear the collar?”

Spike gave him a condescending look. “If we can’t convince them you belong to me without it, the collar won’t help. I’ll say you’re a new acquisition, it’ll explain the lack of visible bite marks and cover a few mistakes.”

Xander nodded. It made sense. He wondered just how worried he should be that one of Spike’s plans was making good strategic sense. “What kinds of demons will be there?”

“Peaceful types mostly. A few really old vampires and other nasties.” Spike stopped and said solicitously, “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Xander could see the triumphant smile behind the considerate façade, and he stiffened his spine. He was not going to back down. “We need the information.”

“Unless we find them tonight,” Spike amended.

“If these are such hot prospects, why didn’t you check them out last night?” Xander asked, peeved.

“Because last night they were long shots,” Spike said, deflating before Xander’s eyes. “Tonight, they’re my only shot at keeping you away from that mind sucker.”

“Why Spike,” Xander batted his eyelashes at him and grinned. “You say the sweetest things.”

Spike growled and set off at a brisk jog. Xander got a warm tingle from fingertips to toes and found himself less worried about tomorrow night.

Their destination proved to be a rambling Spanish style estate with a red tile roof and white stucco walls on Crawford, just down the street from Angel’s old place. It had been a nice place at one time. Now the windows were all boarded up, tiles were missing from the roof and the stucco was pock marked from wear and neglect. They peered through the slats in one of the windows. There was no sign of activity inside. Then again, it was prime hunting time, if you were a vampire, so that might not mean anything.

They found an unlocked door around the back and ventured inside. Spike took point while Xander kept watch behind them.

After six huge, completely unoccupied rooms, though, he wasn’t feeling the sense of eminent menace anymore. “They’re not here, Spike.”

The tension in Spike’s back eased marginally. “Think you’re right. Still, we should check the place out, they might have been here, left something.”

Once again sound reasoning, Xander was tempted to check around the house for large pods. “If you take that wing,” Xander pointed past the kitchen to the master suite, “and I take that wing,” he indicated the other direction, “we should be finished in ten minutes and we can go on to the next house.”

He could tell Spike hated the idea so, before objections could be raised he added. “If I see anything at all I’ll scream for you, fair?”

“Ten minutes,” Spike conceded and headed through the kitchen to search his area. Xander suspected he’d have company again in five; it was a nice feeling.

He headed into the bedroom wing of the house. Convinced as he was of the house’s emptiness that didn’t mean he wasn’t cautious. He reached a hallway with bedrooms and bathrooms branching off from it. He opened each door with the head of his ax, peering inside to confirm its emptiness before proceeding. Most of the rooms had a piece of furniture or two, a dresser or a couple of chairs. A quick glance revealed the lack of occupancy. This was going to take three minutes, not ten.

In the third bedroom there was a lone bed with a sheet draped over it. He was about to move on when he detected a slight movement. He paused at the door. It could have been a slight breeze but he’d have to go closer to be sure. Not relishing the idea of calling Spike to slay a sheet for him, he stepped inside the room and crouched to be on eye level with the underside of the bed, ax held at full extension before him he used the blade to lift the trailing bed linens. A pair of human eyes stared back at him.

Clutching the ax closer to him Xander fell back and, true to his word, screamed, “Spike!”

Chapter Twenty-four

Xander scuttled back to the door to the bedroom, eyes never leaving the bed. He used the doorframe to hoist himself back to his feet. There was no movement from the bed. An arm wrapped around his waist and yanked him back. He screeched (but still manly damn it) before he realized it was Spike pulling him out of the doorway.

Xander pressed his back against the wall. “Under the bed,” he gasped.

Spike threw the sheet off the bed to reveal a figure pressed back against the wall. Spike dropped to the floor, blocking Xander’s view. He could see Spike fishing under the bed for whatever it was. “Come here you,” Spike demanded.

Spike made a yanking motion and then howled in pain, clutching his head. Xander darted forward and pulled Spike away from the bed. Maybe they’d been wrong about the Teckla’s ability to affect vampires. Before he could do more than get an arm around him, though, Spike solved the mystery. “Definitely human.”

Spike shook Xander off and stood up, the effects of the chip blast dissipating. Xander moved forward on hands and knees and peeked under the bed. A form that looked more like a pile of rumpled laundry than a person lay huddled against the wall, staring at him fearfully.

“It’s okay,” Xander said, using the most soothing voice he could muster. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

There was no movement from the indistinct shape. After Xander’s screaming and Spike’s grabbing, they probably had no intention of coming out.

“Too weak most likely.” Xander glanced up at Spike’s commentary. “She’s pretty banged up, just grabbing her set the chip off.”

Xander nodded and contemplated the scene for a moment. “If she needs help we have to get her out of there. Think we should move the bed?”

“Worth a try.” Spike took the head of the bed and Xander took the foot and they eased it away from the wall. The girl stayed still, like some kind of wounded animal hoping against all logic to escape notice.

Xander knelt beside the teenager. Her clothes were torn and dirty, ragged bite marks marred her arms, shoulders and throat. Her eyes looked glassy and hopeless. More soft assurances that they weren’t going to hurt her made no impression, so he reached out his hand. She fixated on it like it was a dangerous snake.

“Not going to talk her down, Xander,” Spike kibitzed from the sidelines. “Grab her and let’s get out of here.”

Ignoring Spike, Xander reached forward until his hand rested on the girl’s shoulder. She cringed back but there was nowhere to go. Moving slowly, he slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her away from the wall. She struggled weakly, muttering under her breath. “We’re taking you to the hospital,” he said as he got his other arm under her and picked her up.

Now that she was so close he could hear what she was muttering, “You came back, no escape, you came back.”

“Spike,” Xander said softly.

“Yeah,” he cut Xander off. “I hear her. They’ve been here.”

###

Xander called an ambulance and got the girl outside while Spike searched the house for any clues to where the clan might have gone. Xander doubted they’d left a change of address form lying around.

The ambulance drivers didn’t ask too many questions. In this town they’d no doubt stopped asking when they saw bites like the ones she was covered in. They let him ride with her to the hospital.

The admitting nurse had a host of questions he had no answers to, starting with her name. He gave the standard story about passing by this old, abandoned house, hearing a noise and investigating. It helped that it wasn’t that far from the actual truth. Once she had given up on him as a source of information, he plopped himself down in the waiting room and called the gang. He had a long wait before Spike joined him.

“House came up empty,” Spike confirmed Xander’s suspicions. “How about her?”

“She’s gonna be fine. She seemed to get a little less scared once we got here,” Xander said, turning to face Spike. “They said they might let us see her after they’re finished treating her. What took you so long?”

Spike shrugged off the question as if it was of no consequence. “You call the others?”

“Yeah, they’re moved to the Magic Box. We’re supposed to join them there later.” Having answered the reasonable question, Xander insisted on an answer to his own. “You checked out the other places alone, didn’t you?”

“Turned out nothing was there. Dead ends.”

Spike’s careless response had no chance of placating Xander. “Yeah, and it could have been you dead in them. Damn it, Spike, we’re a team, we don’t go running off without backup when there’s a big threat out there.”

Spike’s, no doubt, wholly unsatisfactory answer was cut off by the approach of a perky, dark haired nurse. Her name badge read Emma-Lee. “Are you Xander Harris, the one who found Rachel?”

“We found her, actually,” he said, making a gesture to incorporate Spike. “You got her name, that’s great.” Chances were this lady had been taking all Rachel’s information down straight from the source at the same time he was being grilled by Miss Personality, the admitting nurse.

“It took a little while, but she’s talking now. We called her parents, they’re on their way,” Emma-Lee’s smile had happy ending written all over it. Meanwhile, Xander worried their new source of information was about to disappear.

“If you want to sit with her while she waits, you can,” Emma-Lee added, resurrecting his hopes.

“That would be great,” Xander said a little too enthusiastically. Spike gave a snort of derision behind him, but Xander ignored it as they trailed the nurse into an area lined with hospital beds with the heads of the beds against the wall. Green partitions separated each small area, but it was virtually empty and most of the green drapes were open. Rachel sat propped up in a bed near the middle of the room. Spike leaned against the wall, not too near and in her line of sight. Xander slouched on the adjoining bed. Both were careful not to stand between her and the door.

“Hi,” Xander conjured up his goofiest, most disarming smile. “Remember me?”

The girl followed their movements with her eyes, eyes darting back to the nurse who smiled brightly at her. She nodded slightly, trying to keep them all in view at once. She had to be at least eighteen but she looked so much younger, small and vulnerable in the hospital bed, hooked up to an IV with bandages on her arms and shoulders and a cast on her forearm for her broken wrist. Her face was pale and eyes sunken, a look Xander had seen dozens of times on vampire victims. It was difficult to tell if she was pretty or not. No one looked good under these lights.

“Your parents will be here in a few minutes,” Emma-Lee assured her. The phone she wore at her waist buzzed and the nurse checked the number. “I’ve got to get back to my rounds. Do you want them to sit with you until your parents get here?”

Rachel glanced at all three of them then nodded firmly.

“If you need anything, just hit the buzzer,” she called over her shoulder just as she moved out the door at a brisk pace.

“I’m Xander,” he hooked a thumb at Spike, “That’s Spike, don’t worry, his bark is worse than his bite.” He used the same harmless tone that had convinced many teachers he was a moron, hoping to put her at ease.

It seemed to work, or maybe it was just that her escape route was now unblocked. In either case, Xander seized his opportunity to talk to her without hospital interference. His tone turned earnest. “Listen, we know what grabbed you and we’re trying to stop it, but we need your help.”

She shook her head and edged away from him. “You’re safe here,” Xander reeled himself back in. “We’re going to get rid of the things that did this to you, I promise.”

Hope entered her eyes as she stared at him, looking for something, truth perhaps.

“Rachel,” Xander was almost hesitant to remind her of the horrors she had just endured, but they were running way short on time. “Do you know where the vampires went? Did they say anything that would give you an idea?”

Fear crept back into her eyes and Xander hated himself for putting it there. But her voice was stronger as she said, “No, they didn’t talk around us, just,” she gulped and fought to get the next word out, “played.”

“Don’t fret yourself,” Spike’s smooth, soothing voice startled her and she fixed her eyes on him. “You don’t have to tell us what they did, unless you want to. We know about them. The beastie that gets in your head too.”

Rachel shivered but seemed grateful not to have to explain. “We talked, among ourselves sometimes. We were all so happy someone pretty wanted to talk to us, we just walked right out with it.”

All of Xander’s instincts told him a hug was called for at this moment, but when he shifted forward to offer it she shifted back. A stranger’s touch wouldn’t help just now and Xander felt powerless.

Spike diverted the awkward moment with another question. “How many vampires were there, luv?”

She scrunched up her nose in concentration. “Ten. I think ten. It was hard to tell they were in and out so much.”

“That’s okay,” Xander hastened to reassure her. “It helps.”

“He said he’d make my dreams come true.” Rachel looked down at her tightly clasped hands. “Then he did.”

Before Xander could come up with a response there was a commotion at the door. A man and woman who looked like they’d barely gotten their shoes on before leaving the house rushed in and descended on Rachel. They both grabbed her in a hug and he watched Rachel flinch and the parents pull back in surprise. Physical reassurance rebuffed they shifted to verbal, exclaiming how worried they’d been, how happy they were to have her back safe.

Xander made eye contact with Spike and tilted his head toward the exit. They both exited the teary family reunion without another word. Xander didn’t think they’d been noticed at all.

On their way to the shop, Xander thought about Rachel flinching from the embrace of her parents, and a cold rage seized him. “We’re going to get these things, Spike, whatever it takes, we’re taking them down.”

Spike didn’t argue.

###

Willow, Tara and Giles sat at the back table at the shop, surrounded by open books and various spell components.

“Is that progress I smell?” Xander leaned over Willow’s shoulder to examine the book she was reading.

“Yep,” Willow chirped. “Just doing the fine tuning now.”

Giles retrieved a dark, twisty stick from the side of the table. “This is blackthorn,” he said, handing it to Xander. “We would like you to fashion a weapon out of it.”

The stick was about five feet long and about twice as thick as his thumb in most places. It was way too knobbly to make a good sword or even a dagger, wouldn’t be his first choice for an ax handle either. It felt strange in his hands. “What do you want me to make?”

“A shillelagh would be traditional,” Spike supplied smoothly from his place on the stairs.

Giles turned to glare at him. “We did not want to influence him.”

Tara interjected herself before hostilities could ensue. “The weapon has to be fashioned by your hand,” she told Xander in her soft voice. “Like an extension of yourself.”

“When you finish with it,” Willow piped up, excitement at working on complex magic bubbling to the surface. “We’ve got the ritual worked out, we’ll infuse it with Dawn’s blood and—“

“You’ll what!” Spike’s voice could best be described as a roar, as he leapt off the stairs and got right in Willow’s face. “You’re not touching Dawn for this nonsense. Her blood is dangerous, and enough people have tried to take it from her, I don’t fancy us adding to the list.”

Xander wondered for a moment if he should intervene, but Willow was unfazed by Spike’s proximity. She was caught up in the fever of knowledge. “It was Dawn’s idea,” she countered. “She thought there had to be some way to make use of the power of her blood, and there is.”

“I thought Dawn’s blood broke down the walls between dimensions,” Xander said. He didn’t know which side of this argument to fall on. Spike was worried about reenacting the trauma of the tower, and Willow was talking about channeling that power into something useful, making Dawn feel better about who and what she was.

“Only in a specific time and place,” Tara answered. “We’re going to use it to break down the walls between reality and your subconscious, to create a mental weapon.”

“If we are successful. When the creature attacks you,” Giles explained, “we will have supplied you with a weapon that can’t be taken from you. It will be present and available to you in whatever scenario the teckla places you in.”

Xander twisted the stick in his hands, getting the weight of it. There was a substantial knob on one end, part of the root, he assumed, that would make a good club. It wouldn’t need much carving, just some shaping and sanding.

Spike had backed off to the stairs again. “I’m talking to Bit first,” he grumbled.

Willow wasn’t offended, in fact she smiled at Spike like he was a grumpy teddy bear.

Giles made a sour face and allowed, “If you must.”

“So, now I have a stick to throw at the paralyzing-terror-inducing demon.” Xander was starting to feel the prickles of fear up his spine. This was real now.

“We were discussing mental shields when you entered,” Giles explained. “We have several choices.”

“We’ve got intel,” Xander chimed in before Giles could go on a long discussion of the various options. He trusted them to pick out the best one, and his head was already spinning. “We found one of the victims.”

“Indeed. Did you find their lair?” Giles perked up at the new source of information.

Xander shook his head. “They’d moved on, but she told us there were ten vampires.”

“And the beastie goes after losers,” Spike added with a smirk.

Xander resisted the urge to stick out his tongue at him with difficulty. He left Giles to grill Spike about the abandoned lair in favor of cornering Willow.

“So, witchy girl, I haven’t heard about your first day as a burger slinger yet,” he invited.

A repulsed shiver swept over her. “If anything could make me more determined to finish college, that was it.”

Remembering his own minimum wage days with no nostalgia whatsoever he responded, “So, you don’t hear the siren call of the fast food manager, eh?”

“Definitely not. But the routines are going to be super simple to program. I kind of kept myself awake by figuring out how I was going to program the bot during training. I should be ready next week.” She practically vibrated in her seat as she talked of subroutines and protocols.

Xander indulged her for awhile as she talked about things he didn’t understand. Eventually he asked, “So what’s this shillelagh that I’m supposed to make out of this?” Xander held up his stick.

“Oh, let me show you.” She pulled her laptop over and turned it on. “I’ve got pictures!”

Xander let her enthusiasm wash over him, trying not to think of Rachel’s haunted eyes.

###

Xander worked on his shillelagh during his lunch hour and any spare moment he could find during the day. Smoothing the rough edges of the twisty, hard wood became an almost meditative act. It helped keep his mind off where he and Spike were going to go that night. By the time night fell, the stick looked more like a hiking stick than a piece of firewood and felt comfortable in his hand. Tara insisted that its use as a weapon was largely metaphorical, so it didn’t need to be perfectly complete, and Xander saw no reason to disagree with her.

Forced to abandon the comforting task, it was time to let Spike play Ken doll with him.

“This shirt makes me feel girly,” Xander complained, tucking in the emerald, silk shirt into his new black dress slacks.

Spike unbuttoned one more button over his protests. “It makes your eyes sparkle,” Spike said as if he was talking about setting up a piece of art to best effect.

Xander couldn’t help but notice that Spike’s hands lingered on the soft material. Every part of his new outfit was lushly tactile. “Not exactly an issue since I’m going to be walking around with my head bowed,” he griped.

Spike gripped his chin, forcing their gazes to meet. “You will walk with your chin up and your back straight. You are the pet of William the Bloody, not some cringing blood whore. You keep your eyes downcast because no one may speak to you without my permission, you stand behind me to guard my back -- and because no one may touch you without my permission. You will move with grace and elegance and be a credit to me tonight, or we’ll both have reason to regret this little outing. Do you understand me?”

Xander caught his breath at the vicious pride blazing in Spike’s eyes and had only one answer. “Yes, master.”

Chapter Twenty-five

The limousine seemed like a small extravagance when compared to the money they had spent on the clothes. They only hired it for their grand entrance, since they both acknowledged that their exit might be on the rapid side, and a status symbol wouldn’t make a good getaway car. So they’d stashed Xander’s car in a 7-11 parking lot down the road.

The limo driver looked bemused to be picking them up by the side of the road, on the outskirts of town, but he was getting his fifty bucks for a two mile drive so he could damn well cope.

The plush interior of the vehicle was a very appropriate setting for Spike at the moment. Xander had stopped complaining about the money the suit cost when he saw Spike in it. The suit was a close fitting, matte black, very formal affair that made Spike look like a blond James Bond. He was used to Spike’s badass charm, and he’d had a taste of the college boy chic he’d sported for the social worker. He’d never seen the cool sophisticate that shared the back of the limo with him. The image took his mind off where they were going and why. The confidence and élan exuding off Spike made him believe they were going to succeed.

Although, on the remote chance they didn’t, they’d left a note for the others where they would most likely find it in a few hours. This was one of the times it was better to ask forgiveness than permission.

The limo stopped, and Xander ceased ogling Spike long enough to take in their surroundings. They’d pulled up to something that looked more like a French castle than a mansion. It even had a turret. The driver opened the door for them, and they stepped out onto a cobblestone path. Spike ignored the driver and strode to the front door as if it were his own house, leaving Xander rushing to join him. He could well imagine the driver shaking his head as he drove away, but that wasn’t his problem.

Xander barely had time to admire the carved stone pillars before a man in a tux was opening the door, and he had to take his position at Spike’s right shoulder.

“Name, sir?” The maitre ‘d asked.

“William of Aurelius and companion.” Spike was using the high brow accent again, only this time it rang with authority and haughtiness.

“Very good, sir.” The man stepped back and swung the door wide. “You are expected.”

The thoughts of trap and danger arising from that statement were not happy making ones. Xander hoped Spike had been doing some behind the scenes maneuvering. Spike didn’t pause as he entered the great hall, so Xander kept himself as close to Spike as he could without tripping them both and hoped for the best.

The foyer held more of the carved stone pillars and was three stories tall, with a skylight gracing the roof. Xander realized he wasn’t supposed to be gawking like a tourist and returned his attention to the eye candy of Spike in a suit instead, but he still grabbed glances at the dual staircase and the ten foot stone archway they were passing beneath.

On the other side was a ballroom with a hardwood floor. The room was lined with small alcoves with two or three plush armchairs in them. Against one wall was an enormous buffet, some of the food Xander recognized and much of it he didn’t want to. Against the other wall was a gigantic bar made of walnut. The variety of patrons at both locations boggled Xander. He’d seen some of the species while patrolling, and it was bizarre seeing them not causing mayhem. More of them he didn’t recognize at all.

A distinctly snakey demon in a copper evening gown stepped forward and clasped Spike’s hand. A beautiful, dark haired woman stood at her left shoulder, eyes downcast and back ramrod straight.

“William, how good to see you,” snake lady said in a delighted tone.

Spike lifted her hand to his lips in a courtly gesture and responded, “So good of you to invite me, Felicia.”

“I invited you six months ago,” she scolded as if Spike was some kind of naughty boy. “There are many here who want to take your measure.”

“Want to see if I can hold the Hellmouth, don’t you mean,” Spike responded in a sly voice.

Questions whirled through Xander’s mind about the likelihood of Spike having to fight to prove some demony worth or something. Since Spike seemed unconcerned, he kept his sensors at yellow alert.

“Come upstairs, I’ll introduce you around.” She glided away back through the archway they had just passed through. Spike, and therefore Xander, followed in her wake.

The second floor balcony overlooked the foyer on one side and was lined with doors on the other. Their guide opened the first one, and Xander was astonished by the rich sound that instantly enveloped them. The soundproofing on these rooms had to be amazing since he hadn’t heard a peep before. Inside, a small group gathered around a baby grand where a gorgeous blonde played some complicated piece of music, while her high, clear voice rang out in Italian, or possibly Latin.

They joined the gathering and listened quietly until she finished. Polite applause broke out as she curtsied and took position behind a gray, craggy demon in a suit. It took Xander a moment to realize the congratulations on the performance were being given to the demon, who stroked one claw tipped finger over his pet’s cheek while he accepted the other’s praise.

Eventually they were presented to the craggy demon. “She’s a rare talent,” Spike complimented.

“Training,” the demon corrected. “I sent her to Julliard.”

“Indeed,” Spike commented mildly. He didn’t sound impressed.

“Will your pet be performing for us tonight?” The question was a clear challenge, and Xander felt himself panicking. He couldn’t sing, and he doubted the kazoo was a musical instrument this black tie crowd would appreciate.

“If you like,” Spike said blandly, snagging a glass of wine from a passing waitress. “He’s quite proficient at killing demons. Is there someone you would like him to eliminate?”

Xander shifted his stance, preparing for battle. He was certain the whole room would come down on them after an idiotic statement like that. There were no swords or axes conveniently hanging on the walls; it would be a short fight.

The craggy demon pulled himself up and stalked off. Their guide, Felicia, smiled and shook her head as if Spike had just pulled a schoolyard prank, while leading them to the next room. Every eye in the room was on them, but no one moved to attack.

Possibly hearing his thundering heartbeat, Spike reached back and gave his arm a quick squeeze. “It’s called counting coup, pet.”

Spike obviously meant the statement to be reassuring. Xander had to trust that Spike knew what he was doing. Since they hadn’t been instantly pounded into paste, it might even be true.

During the next hour they traveled from room to room, being introduced to various demons. Xander had never suspected he could be this bored surrounded by things that could kill him with a pinky, or whatever small appendage was applicable. The whole thing was a game of one-upmanship in pointless subjects. The field of combat was knowledge of art, literature, history: none of them Xander’s strongest subjects. He marveled at Spike’s easy answers when asked his opinion on some obscure statue or poem. More than ever, he was certain Spike was lying about his London slum past.

Demons with pets used them for their superiority games. After watching a gymnastics performance that would have impressed Buffy, the demon accepted accolades for her pet’s performance, then called upon him to comment on the picture that hung by the door. Xander didn’t understand one word in ten and wondered if a blue period meant the artist was depressed when he did the painting.

Xander wasn’t asked to speak, for which he was eternally grateful. Not a single subject came up that he was knowledgeable about. Not that he expected there to be in depth questions on the merits of various comic book creative teams, or whether Deep Space 9 was derivative of Babylon 5 or vice versa, but it was definitely unfair when they broke into French or Latin unexpectedly. It got to be a very repetitive pattern.

“My Philippe speaks nine languages fluently.”

“Celeste is a financial advisor for Wolfram and Hart. To think, two years ago I rescued her from the gutter in Paris.”

“Megan is getting her doctorate at Vanderbilt.”

Xander felt like a mongrel that had wandered into a pedigree dog show. Every pet was gorgeous, accomplished and graceful. Willow would have been able to impress the other demons with her magic and massive brain. All Xander could do was kneel passively next to Spike and try not to nod off. He felt Spike’s cool hand rubbing the nape of his neck, massaging the tension away. It was a blatantly proprietary move but it felt too good for Xander to even think about arguing.

There was a pale green demon lounging across from Spike. Felicia had led them into this alcove with it’s two cushy armchairs, introduced the new guy as Reginald and left as if she’d gotten them to their destination at last. Soft pads next to the chairs provided kneeling space for him and Reginald’s pet. Reginald didn’t try to amaze them with his art collection or his pet’s talents. Not that the fact she was ravishing and graceful weren’t obvious to anyone with eyes. Instead he asked a question. “Have you enjoyed your evening here?”

“It hasn’t been as enlightening as I had hoped.” Spike looked relaxed but his eyes never left Reginald’s. He wasn’t dismissing this guy.

“A shame that, the patrons of my little club so pride themselves on their expertise,” Reginald said with a rueful smile.

“I had noticed.” The fingers on the back of Xander’s neck were making tight circles. “I was hoping for more practical information. Are all your guests obliged to run the gauntlet?”

Reginald ran a finger idly around the rim of his wine glass. “Your rashness is rather legendary. I must say, I’m intrigued by your restraint.”

“I’ve had to learn patience in the last few years.” Xander kept facing forward, eyes trained on Reginald for any sign of hostile movement, but he wanted to reach out and touch Spike. Spike sounded calm, but Xander could tell he was near his snapping point.

“Ah yes, the chip,” Reginald responded as if he had just remembered it. “I must say, your method of coping with that handicap is unique: taking on a dead slayer’s minions as your own, defending a Hellmouth with them. It’s unprecedented.”

Xander bit his tongue before he could growl out that the Scoobies were not minions. If Spike could show patience and discretion then so could he. The fingers stopped moving entirely.

“You’ve been misinformed. The Slayer is very much alive,” Spike answered, his jaw rigid.

Reginald spread his arms in an expansive gesture. “Let us speak frankly, Spike. That is the sobriquet you prefer isn’t it?”

Spike gave a jerky nod.

“Dimensional rifts opening, dragons in the sky, do you take me for the blind humans that inhabit this town? What patrols the Hellmouth at night is a mechanical toy. The Slayer is dead, you have taken her minions as your own, and have continued guarding the Hellmouth in her stead.” He spoke in a calm, measured tone as he began to stroke his pet’s back. She arched into the touch.

“Those she cared about are under my protection,” Spike said ambiguously. The fingers began moving again with a lighter pressure.

“So noted.” A touch on the shoulder and Reginald’s pet snuggled her head and upper body into his lap.

Spike duplicated the touch on Xander, and he snuggled himself, wishing he moved with the fluid grace of the girl. This seemed to be some bizarre form of sheathing weapons. Whatever it was, he was grateful to relax from the stiff posture he’d held all night. He gave Spike’s thigh a covert squeeze.

“So, do you have information for me, or have I wasted my time here tonight?”

“Less than you might desire,” Reginald admitted. “The Jerib clan knows about the Slayer’s death. They may even know of your plans to move against them. They’ve been watching you and your humans for months. They aren’t planning to confront you directly. They plan to take the robot and reprogram it, use it to keep the other contenders in line.”

“How many of them are there?”

“Ten, you already know about the teckla, I presume.”

Spike’s fingers tightened on Xander’s neck, almost to the point of pain. “Yes.”

“I see.” Xander suspected that their plan to use him as bait wasn’t so secret anymore. “In truth, I wish you good hunting. The Jerib clan is ruthless and efficient but short on the social niceties. I would prefer you as a neighbor.”

Observing those social niceties Spike asked, “So, tell me about the accomplishments of your girl there, I know you’ve been waiting all night.”

Reginald’s indulgent smile looked strange on a mouth full of fangs. He brushed his hand along her long, brown hair. “Patrice can speak for herself.”

“I’m an aerospace engineer at JPL,” she said in a small voice, averting her eyes.

“You must forgive Patrice,” Reginald apologized. “She is terribly shy when speaking of herself. Now, if you were to ask her about the Mars rover she would chatter all night.” His eyes narrowed in annoyance. “It takes her away from me for months at a time.”

Patrice gave Reginald an indulgent smile in the face of his glare. “The FIDO field tests are only 10 days long. I was barely gone a month last time.”

“I suppose I should be pleased you’re safe at the labs rather than scampering over the Mojave Desert,” he conceded. “And how long do you plan to be away from home this time?”

Patrice’s eyes glittered with interest. “Three months, but then I’ll be back home for six.” She tapped a finger to his nose affectionately. “Remember, you promised not to get grumpy about it.”

Reginald sighed heavily and returned his attention to Spike and Xander. “The sacrifices one must make for science.”

Patrice giggled. Xander didn’t know rock scientists did that. Xander was tempted to start up a conversation with her. He could ask all kinds of questions, and she could give him lengthy answers he wouldn’t understand. It would be kind of like hanging around Willow.

“I know your time is short tonight,” Reginald continued, his long face growing serious. “Tell me, what are your plans for your boy there?”

Spike didn’t miss a beat. “I was thinking of architecture.”

“Colombia is a good school.”

“I’m leaning towards Cal Poly, I want him close to home.” Xander barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. Spike was laying it on a bit thick. “Xander has work in the morning, I should get him home.”

“Of course, if you come again, we shall dispense with the gauntlet and perhaps have time for conversation.” Reginald smiled a toothy smile. They all rose to their feet, and Reginald and Spike shook hands.

###

Walking back to Xander’s car, Spike grumbled about jumping through hoops for nothing.

“At least you won’t be playing bait now,” Spike sighed.

Xander bristled. “What gives you that idiotic idea?”

“They know we’re coming, don’t they? It would be suicide.”

“No, we just need to be careful.”

“How do you figure we’re going to unscramble your brain after that thing is through with you?” Spike looked close to vamping out.

“Not too worried about it. It’s not like a whole hell of a lot is happening up there as it is,” Xander said, shifting to joking mode. “What was all that about Cal Poly anyway?”

Spike shrugged. “You have a talent for building things. I thought you might like being an architect.”

“Spike, do you know how hard architecture school is? Willow had to hold my hand so I could get a C in high school math.” Xander had never dreamed Spike was serious. Xander wasn’t college material, he knew that.

Spike flipped one elegant hand dismissively. “You’ve a practical mind, Xander. Bet if I asked you how many sheets of drywall you need for a 24 x 18 room, you could tell me. Besides, I’ve seen you draw up blueprints.”

“Thirty-four, but that’s not the point, and those were blueprints for a remodel of the basement.”

“Same principle, isn’t it?” Spike stopped and gave Xander his full attention. “You’re smart. You can do anything you set your mind to. We might have to wrangle the money a bit, but don’t hold yourself back with this bollocks about being stupid.”

Conversation closed, as far as he was concerned, Spike headed on toward the car once more. Xander stood transfixed for a moment trying to catch his breath. Spike wasn’t just yanking his chain, he was being far too casual about the whole thing for that. Even worse, he was starting Xander thinking along the lines of the long haul, making the kind of long term plans Xander struggled to guard against, because he could be dead tomorrow, and more than likely would be. He felt like he was standing on a fault line that had just begun to rumble.

Twenty Six

The alarm clock went off at an ungodly hour. At least, it was an ungodly hour if you’d spent until midnight at a demon club, then another hour being lectured by your friends about the idiocy of going to said demon club without letting them know. Pointing out they had left a note had been met with frosty disapproval. He hit the off button and eased his head back down to Spike’s chest. Luckily, Spike didn’t wake up for much short of a nuclear strike.

At least it was Friday, and sleeping in would be possible tomorrow. He’d need the extra sleep after the demon battle tonight. Willow thought she had a pattern sussed out to know where they would strike tonight. Sunnydale only had three clubs and the pattern seemed pretty predictable. Spike had used this as further evidence that their plan was exposed, and they should abandon the whole idea. He’d been overruled. Even if the Jerib clan was laying a trap for them, the defenses they were going to give Xander should be sufficient to keep the teckla from overwhelming him. The worried look in Spike’s eyes did strange things to Xander’s stomach.

Spike’s cool chest felt good under his cheek and he could have easily dropped back to sleep. Spike had one arm thrown over Xander’s waist and didn’t seem inclined to let go anytime soon. It made Xander feel safe in a way he wasn’t sure he wanted to examine too closely. Waking up next to Spike made him feel more whole than he had since Anya died.

That realization was enough to propel him out of bed. Things were good, comfortable. Thinking about getting more, about permanence, could lead nowhere. He knew the score; he was happy with the way things were. Falling in love with Spike would just force Spike to hurt him, and neither of them wanted that.

Even so, he stood at the foot of the bed, showered and dressed, for a full five minutes watching Spike not breathe.

###

Xander knocked off work early. A lot of prep was going into the evening’s monster hunt. When he got home, Willow and Tara had already pushed back all the furniture in the living room to make space for the ritual they intended to perform.

“Need any help?” he asked.

“Not really,” Willow told him with a smile. “We got Spike to do all the heavy work for us.”

Given Spike’s feelings about the plan he was a bit surprised. “Where is he?”

“Sulking in the basement,” Tara informed him, while setting out red pillar candles.

Snippy as Tara was being, Xander was pretty sure her observation was accurate. “Guess I need to go downstairs and find good bait clothes.”

Willow squeezed Tara’s waist, peering at Xander over her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Giles and Dawn will be bringing the rest of the supplies in an hour. How’s about Chinese food for dinner, then spell casting?”

“Sounds good to me. Don’t forget the orange beef,” he called over his shoulder. He suspected they were about to get down to some serious snuggling, and be too distracted to order dinner. He didn’t mind, he might even get some snuggling of his own in before dinner.

The lights weren’t on in the basement, never a good sign. Spike could see perfectly well in the dark, but skulking in a dark room was much more Angel’s shtick than Spike’s. Xander knew better than to point this out unless things got desperate.

“Hi honey, I’m home!” Xander brazened it out, flipping the light on as he came down the stairs.

Spike was lounging in bed, the sheets pooled provocatively around his hips. “You’re home early.” Spike’s voice was a seductive purr.

Xander went to the closet, turning his back on the alluring picture as rapidly as he could. Drooling would weaken his bargaining position. “Lots to do for tonight. You might want to get dressed, the girls are ordering Chinese.”

“Got a better idea,” Spike whispered in his ear, suddenly mere inches away. Spike’s arm snaked around his waist, his hands tugging at Xander’s waistband. He could feel that Spike was naked as he pressed against his back. “How about you get undressed instead?”

Xander swallowed hard. Spike had the ability to win arguments by making Xander’s brain dribble out his ears with a few well chosen words and touches. A completely unfair advantage in Xander’s book. He grasped Spike’s hands to still the clever fingers that were about to divest him of his pants. “You’re not going to talk me out of this, Spike.”

Spike’s response was to nip at his ear while grinding against Xander’s ass. “Wasn’t planning on talking, pet.”

He was going to have to get undressed to change anyway, there was probably time for a quick session before dinner. Xander knew he was making excuses, but it was difficult to care. Releasing Spike’s hands he turned in his embrace to get access to all that gloriously naked pale skin. Spike availed himself of the change of angle to nibble and lick along his neck. Xander tilted his head to grant greater access while his hands roamed Spike’s back and ass, pulling him up tight against him. Sometimes he worried that having a vampire attached to his neck got him rock hard in seconds; it might adversely affect his Scooby reflexes. It might bother him later, but not right now. Instead, he attacked Spike’s neck with equal fervor.

Xander’s pants pooled around his ankles, he’d been too distracted to notice Spike undoing them, but he sure noticed the greater contact the lack afforded.

He pulled away long enough to pull off his t-shirt and kick off his shoes, then they were both tumbling onto the bed. Spike pounced on Xander’s erection, swallowing it down to the root. Xander was intensely grateful for the magical soundproofing Willow had done on the basement as he shouted Spike’s name at the sudden pleasure.

Dimly, he was aware of Spike handling his ankles, but it was impossible to pay attention with that tight throat milking his cock.

Spike pulled off, grinning up at him like a maniac. Xander groaned in protest but pulled Spike up until they lay face to face with Spike sprawled over his chest. “You make me crazy, you know that don’t you?”

“My specialty,” Spike replied. “Any complaints?”

“Oh, hell no.”

Spike plundered Xander’s mouth with his tongue, rubbing their cocks together while pinning his arms near the headboard. Distracting as this was, it wasn’t quite as all consuming as the blowjob had been, so Xander noticed when Spike started pulling at one wrist. Experimentally, he tried to move his leg and found it secured to the footboard. He twisted his arm out of Spike’s grip hard enough for him to grimace in pain and for the chip to send out a minor blast.

“Spike, what are you doing?”

“Trying to molest you. Thought you were enjoying it,” he complained, rubbing his aching head.

“You know this isn’t going to work, don’t you?” Xander chided. “They know I’m down here. If I didn’t show up for dinner they’d send someone down. I might never be able to look Giles in the eye again.”

With horrifying clarity, he could see that humiliating scene continuing. Giles would take in Xander’s situation, conclude the evil, soulless vampire was hurting him, and drive a stake through Spike’s heart while Xander lay there, helpless to intervene.

Xander dove for the cuffs restraining his ankles. “Get them off, get them off!”

Spike undid his left ankle while Xander attacked the right one. “Didn’t mean to scare you, luv. You seemed to like it be—“

The instant his feet were free Xander tackled Spike to the bed, covering him from hips to shoulders. He was being stupid and irrational and Xander didn’t care. Spike was fragile, he realized, a well placed stake, a hastily opened curtain, a flash of fire and he’d be left holding nothing but a handful of dust.

“Get off me you great lummox,” Spike protested, shoving Xander to the side. “What’s come over you?”

“I can’t lose you,” Xander whispered, laying a hand on Spike’s nicely solid, non-dusty chest.

“That’s it, you’ve gone daft. I’ll tell the Watcher you can’t do this bit of senselessness tonight.” Spike smiled in triumph while holding Xander’s hand in place with his own.

Xander thought of Rachel flinching away from her parents. Somewhere out there a dozen more people were being tortured, just like she was, and the Scoobies were their only hope. These were the thoughts that had kept his resolve good and firm all day.

Now the image of Spike, outnumbered and vulnerable, refusing to give in, dissolving to dust under their stakes made that resolve immovable. Maybe he wasn’t any better than Spike, who didn’t care about random humans, after all.

Xander smoothed his free hand over Spike’s forehead. “How’s your head?”

“All right,” Spike grumbled.

“I’m sorry.” Xander braced himself over Spike, gave him a suggestive grin. “Can I make it up to you?”

“Course you can.” Spike laid a hand on Xander’s cheek. “Don’t go.”

Xander turned and kissed Spike’s palm. “I have to.” He glanced at the clock. “But I’ve got fifteen minutes to see if I can’t make you forget you ever had a headache.”

He was reaching for the lube in the nightstand before Spike could say anything else. Straddling Spike’s torso, he enjoyed the feel of Spike’s ribs clamped between his legs. He made a great show of squirting the lube onto his fingers, leaving Spike guessing where he was planning to apply it as he set the bottle back on the nightstand. Spike clasped his hands behind his head, enjoying the show and leaving the driving to Xander.

Slowly, Xander reached behind and began preparing himself. He loved watching Spike’s eyes dilate. He loved it even more when Spike abandoned his observer pose to run his hands over Xander’s chest, shoulders, neck, anywhere he could reach, like he just had to touch. He rested one hand over Xander’s heart, feeling it beat beneath his fingertips.

Xander’s erection had wilted with the earlier scare but was rapidly springing back to full hardness now. His breath was starting to come in quick pants as he stretched himself. He was always careful to do a thorough job in deference to the chip, but the anticipation drove them both insane. Finally, he removed his fingers and gave Spike’s cock a quick swipe with the remains of the lube before guiding it to his entrance.

Spike went completely still under him as Xander gently eased himself down until he was cradled by Spike’s pelvis. Spike’s hands went to his hips, fingers flexing, but he didn’t buck up or urge Xander to move. Xander was enjoying the view of Spike spread beneath him, and if this position also ensured that he could fall forward and cover all Spike’s vulnerable areas at once, so much the better.

He began moving at a steady, measured pace, feeling every inch as it slid in and out of him. It was true that time was limited, but Xander wasn’t stupid enough to discount the possibility he might just die tonight. If he did, he didn’t want his last time with Spike to be a hurried affair, the way it had been with Anya. He wanted to take his time, savor the connection. He braced his hands on Spike’s chest, increasing the points of contact, pouring all his love and devotion into the unbeating chest even if the words were forbidden.

Spike didn’t hurry him, instead he slipped one hand behind Xander’s head and drew him down for a kiss. Xander was happy to comply. Kissing Spike was like an electric current, like he was unleashing his own strength into Xander’s merely mortal body. They barely moved while they kissed, basking in the closeness. Eventually, Xander came up for air and, with a lascivious grin, increased the pace. He changed angles so that Spike’s cock hit in just the right place, adding a squeeze and a twist that wrung expletives of encouragement out of his partner.

Spike began stripping Xander’s cock, trying to match the rhythm Xander was setting. It wasn’t a perfect match but it didn’t matter. Spike’s touch was light, but the double stimulation meant Xander wasn’t going to last long. With a groan of regret that he couldn’t hold out longer, he spurted over Spike’s chest and stomach. Spike released his spent cock and braced his hands against Xander’s chest. He pumped his hips up as if he could fuse the two of them together. His back arched, head thrown back and Xander felt his release deep inside.

Xander managed to collapse next to Spike, rather than on top of him, but it was a near thing.

“That was amazing, luv,” Spike sighed, running a hand through Xander’s sweaty hair.

“Glad to oblige,” Xander said, burrowing his face into Spike’s shoulder. It would be nice to just lie there and take a post coital nap, but that wasn’t in the game plan. “I’ve got to shower.” He raised himself up enough to survey Spike’s spattered body. “So do you.” He grinned. “Want to share.”

“Course, pet. I’ll help you wash all those hard to reach places.” Spike’s anticipatory smile should be cataloged as a lethal weapon, in Xander’s opinion.

###

Xander had to insist the shower be cut shorter than either of them wanted. He was hardly ready to go again, but they both seemed to need to touch each other more than usual at the moment.

Standing in front of the closet he surveyed the contents, searching for some of his old clothes that would scream loudly, “I’m a social outcast, come get me!” There weren’t a lot of choices. Spike and Dawn had taken a buzz saw to his wardrobe. He pulled out a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of baggy cargoes that he thought might do the trick.

”Do you know what to do tonight?” Spike asked from his position on the bed.

“I think I can remember how to be a geek boy loser, yeah,” Xander replied with more bitterness than he intended.

Spike growled at him. “I meant do you know how you’re going to signal me that you’re leaving the club?”

Embarrassed, Xander opted for answering the original question, over trying to dig his way out, while he dressed. “You’re number one on my speed dial, I’ll just reach in my pocket and ring you.”

“I’ll have it on vibrate.” Spike leered at him. “Where I’ll be sure to feel it.”

“Don’t you ever get enough?” Xander shoved him over so he could sit on the foot of the bed to put on his socks and shoes.

“Nope,” Spike said with a pop. “Insatiable I am.”

“Well, maybe we can do something about that later tonight,” Xander allowed.

A knock on the basement door interrupted whatever Spike would have said. “Boys, dinner’s here!” shouted Willow. She didn’t even try the doorknob, smart girl that she was.

“We’ll be right there!” Xander shouted back.

“Just hope they remembered the orange beef,” Spike muttered as he made his way up the stairs.

Tara and Dawn were putting out plates and unpacking cartons while Giles and Willow shuffled the books and papers out of the way.

“Taking drink orders,” Xander offered, since he was standing in the kitchen. Spike snagged his own beer as he passed through. The girls talked over each other but he hardly needed to hear the answers: they were creatures of habit.

He entered the dining room with a tower of soda cans. Giles could fix his own hot tea since he insisted Xander never did it right.

“So, all systems go?” Xander asked, piling mushu pork and orange beef on his plate.

“We’ve got all the elements,” Willow said, digging into the cashew chicken. “Who wants chopsticks?”

Chopsticks disappeared from the fan of them she held.

“Are you sure the Copper Tank will be their target tonight?” Giles directed his question to Willow.

“It fits the pattern, which, considering this is a trap, makes it pretty darn likely.”

Spike scowled. “Still say this is an idiotic plan.” He stole a piece of orange beef off Xander’s plate.

Xander tried, unsuccessfully, to fend him off with his fork but Spike was far too nimble with the chopsticks. “Get your own plate.”

“Tastes better off yours,” was the smug reply.

“We’re set up for the rituals, are you two ready for tonight?” Tara interrupted. She seemed needled by their horseplay.

“I go play bait in the club,” Xander recited. “When a likely candidate talks me into leaving with them I speed dial Spike. He uses these bat ears of his and I give him the direction we’re going. He follows me. Once we reach wherever they’re keeping their hostages, he calls the rest of you in and we clean house. Do I get a cookie?”

Dawn pelted him with a fortune cookie.

“Except for Dawn, who stays here with the bot in case they try to attack while we’re gone,” he amended.

“You never let me in on the fun,” she pouted. “It’s embarrassing having the Buffybot babysit me.”

“Think of it as you protecting the Buffybot, Dawn,” Tara said in her most reasonable voice. “I mean, that’s what they’re after, isn’t it?”

The affirmation made Dawn sit up a little straighter in her chair. “So, when do we get to the ritual?”

Xander pushed away his empty plate, “I’m ready.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

Xander sat in the middle of the living room, the blackthorn shillelagh lying by his right hand, while the others gathered spell ingredients. He’d been advised he was going to be sitting there awhile so he should get comfortable. The beanbag chair was probably more leeway than he was going to get, so sitting cross legged would have to do.

Giles laid a black stone by his right hand. “This is jet from Whitby. It represents water. The staff itself represents earth.”

Willow was busily drawing a chalk circle on the hardwood floor. It was sidewalk chalk and Xander hoped it would mop up without too much trouble. Otherwise they were going to need a big area rug to cover it up. Willow, Tara and Giles were still trying to explain the ceremony to him. He’d begged them not to, but they insisted it would help him manipulate the energies if he needed to, whatever that meant.

“Dawn’s blood will represent spirit,” Willow explained.

Tara placed the last pillar candle at its compass point on the edge of the circle. “The candles will represent fire.”

“I’ve got air!” Dawn bounced in trailed by a Mylar balloon which proudly proclaimed “It’s a boy!” in baby blue letters surrounded by confetti.

Silence reigned.

“That’ll be fine, Dawn,” Tara said in a tight voice, as if she was trying not to burst out laughing. “Would you hold on to it until we need it?”

Plopping down just behind Xander’s right shoulder, Dawn held tight to the merrily bobbing balloon with every indication of being pleased with herself.

Willow finished the circle. It encompassed all of them and most of the living room. “The circle is sealed. Let no malevolent influence cross its bounds. So mote it be.”

She and Tara lit the candles then Willow positioned herself directly in front of him. He felt Tara settle behind him. The two witches lit sage smudges and chanted a cleansing spell while they circled him with them. Xander closed his eyes to keep from getting the smoke in them. The sage made an odd mix with the cinnamon scent of the candles, like turkey stuffing and apple pie on one plate. Many more spells like this and they’d need to repaint in here.

Being the center of attention was a deeply strange sensation for Xander. It made him twitchy. When the chanting for the cleansing was finished, his eye couldn’t help but be drawn to the single member of the group outside the circle.

Spike sat in the dining room, well away from the proceedings, making a great show of polishing off the orange beef.

Willow called his attention back to the proceedings within the circle. “Xander, pick up the staff.”

He carefully swung the weapon to the front, lying it across his open palms so he faced Willow with it. “As the work of your hands, this staff is intimately tied to you. It can only be used in defense against an invader, but it cannot be taken from you.” She lit another candle between them. Once the flame was steady she guided him to stretch the staff beyond the candle, then pull it back toward himself through the flame.

“The flame is for purity,” Willow explained. “Do you accept its energy into yourself?”

If Willow said so, that was good enough for him. “I do.” He let her direct his hands back until he held the staff across his chest, over his heart, before returning it to its former position on his lap.

Next, Giles picked up the shard of jet. “This is for clarity of mind. Should the teckla enter your mind, touching this should allow you to remember that the images presented to you are not real and suppress your fear.”

After a short incantation, Giles tied the stone in place just below the head of the shillelagh.

“Tie the balloon below the jet, Dawn,” Tara instructed.

As she did so, Tara told him, “As you battle this creature, carry the love and joy of your friends with you.” Xander had to admit, he couldn’t look at the balloon without smiling, even as it rebounded off his head.

Then Giles pulled out a white-handled, single-edged knife. Dawn extended her left arm over the shaft of the shillelagh, batting the bobbing balloon out of her way to do so. Giles wanted to make sure she could still do her homework without complaining her writing hand hurt too much.

“Are you ready, Dawn?” Giles asked gently, squeezing her fingers.

Dawn nodded. She looked up briefly, as if she were trying to remember something, then locked eyes with Xander. “I gift you with my blood freely and with a full heart.”

At her words, Giles made a very shallow cut across her palm. Dawn turned her hand over to let the blood drip onto the wood. After a few moments Giles took her hand and began wrapping gauze around it.

Reciting the words Willow had given them earlier, Xander said, “I accept your gift with humility and gratitude.” He was pleased to note Dawn was smiling. Maybe it was a good thing to be using her blood for something protective.

Willow closed her hands over his, interlocking their fingers. “The blood of the Key transforms this staff from a physical to a spiritual weapon,” she stated.

He nodded his understanding and closed his eyes. She began to chant and he felt a tingling in his hands. Xander concentrated on breathing steadily and remaining calm. Willow’s chant stopped and Xander opened his eyes. Their hands were still linked but the shillelagh was gone.

A proud smile graced Willow’s mouth as she gave Xander’s hands a friendly squeeze. “If you need it, just concentrate and it’ll appear in your hands.”

Sounded pretty nifty.

Xander felt Tara’s hands as she slipped something over his head. When it slipped down to rest over his breastbone, he saw it was a piece of amethyst on a silver chain. “This is for true seeing. It will help you see the invader in your mind.” Resting her hands on the top of his head, she whispered something soft and lilting that he didn’t understand, but he felt something shift inside his head.

He turned to say something to Dawn and was faced with a Dawn-shaped column of swirling green fairy lights. He shook his head, trying to refocus and he was looking at Dawn again. “Okay, that was weird.”

Willow drew a line of chalk across a portion of the circle as she and Tara blew out the candles. “The circle is broken,” she declared. “May its energy heal and bless the Earth. Blessed be.”

Almost immediately, Spike’s hand appeared in front of his face. “Need a hand, pet?”

Xander grabbed hold and let Spike steady him on his feet. “I think Flora, Fauna and Merryweather here overstuffed my brain.”

“Are you all right, Xander?” Willow’s anxious face stuttered before him like he was seeing her with a strobe light. The colors of the room were more saturated, the edges sharper. He turned to Spike, who was still supporting him, and saw the human face and demon face overlaying each other. The different aspects of each shifted in prominence. Blue eyes and fangs made a jarring combination. He blinked, trying to clear his vision.

“Just a little disoriented, Wills,” he tried for reassuring. It was better than freaking out.

“It’s no wonder, were you going to try to cram the kitchen sink into his head next?” Spike carped.

“Xander,” Giles’s voice was gentle but firm and ignored Spike entirely. “Close your eyes. Concentrate on how things should look.”

Xander followed his advice. Breathing slowly and leaning on Spike, he called up an image of the living room. He nodded to let Giles know he had it.

“Good. Now, open your eyes.”

Xander squinted one eye open. When nothing squirrelly appeared he opened them both. Dawn was nice and solid and Spike’s human face was the only one he saw.

“Okay, I’m good to go,” he laughed. He pulled away from Spike and helped Willow and Tara put the living room to rights.

When it was time to shift the furniture back, he looked around for Spike. What good was supernatural strength if you couldn’t put it to work moving furniture?

He spotted Spike in the dining room in close conference with Dawn. He was probably drilling her on last minute instructions on what to do in case of vamp attack. Spike’s intensity brought a smile to Xander’s face. If he was really lucky, maybe he’d get a lecture before heading into battle.

***

Xander hated how easy it was to slip into the role of the Zeppo again. The crowd in the Copper Tank was older than the Bronze, no one under 21 was allowed in, but the dynamics were the same. Everyone was trying to make a connection. Cool guys trying to chat up hot girls; no dweebs, of either gender, need apply.

For two years, Xander had walked into places like this only when Anya wanted to go dancing. With a beautiful girl on his arm, “the scene” was simply unnoticed background noise. Now, the hot blond he was with was lurking in a nearby alleyway waiting for his signal. It would be reassuring to have his friends there, but they were hanging out at the Magic Box, waiting to be told where the action was. That left Xander floundering with lame pick up lines and a return to being the kid always picked last for the team.

“Want to dance?” His hopeful, puppy dog tone didn’t sway the willowy blonde sitting alone at the bar. She scanned him briefly as if he were a pair of high heels she were considering buying, clearly found him wanting, and turned away without bothering to reply. Not that she needed to.

He couldn’t even get the bartender’s attention. He guessed he didn’t look like a big tipper.

A leggy brunette leaned on the bar beside him. She motioned to the bartender, who responded to her immediately. Who could blame him? She was a knockout by anyone’s definition of the term. “What can I get for you?”

“White Russian,” she said in a deep, sultry voice. Then she turned to Xander. “How about you? My treat.”

‘We have a winner,’ he thought. Now that the moment was here, he found himself tongue tied. With any luck she’d think it was nervousness over a pretty girl talking to him. “Jack and Coke.”

The bartender took the orders, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe Xander’s luck. Xander couldn’t believe his luck either. Maybe Willow and Tara could find a spell to reverse demon magnetism.

“You don’t come in here very often, do you?”

Xander forced himself to stand still and feed her the cover story rather than edge away. “No. I had a girlfriend for a couple years, but she dumped me, so I’m out on the market again. I work construction so it’s not like I’m going to meet a lot of people to date at the office.”

She looked around the bar, clearly weighing its merits as a place to meet someone. She made a sour face. “Not many choices in here either.”

Their drinks were placed in front of them. The brunette paid, giving the bartender a smile that showed off amazing dimples. Then she turned that same smile on Xander. “I’m Carmen.” She thrust her hand forward.

Xander took it with only the slightest bit of hesitation. He was relatively sure she wouldn’t pick a public spot like this one to feed in. He aimed for casual chatter. “Xander. So, you don’t like what you see?”

She wrinkled her nose. It was cute. “Too fake. Nobody’s here looking to meet a kindred soul. They’re looking for a good portfolio. Trophy wife wanna bes and guys looking for an edge. But that’s not your game, is it, Xander?”

Xander took a very small sip of his drink. The last thing he wanted to be right now was drunk. “I just didn’t know where else to look.” He stared into his glass, the picture of patheticness. “Being alone sucks.”

She leaned in close, her words whispered into his ear. “Let’s get out of here and I’ll make all your dreams come true.”

“Your place or mine?” He stammered the cliché. No way this thing was ever going to his home.

“Mine, I think,” she purred, giving him that dimpled smile, pressing against him as if they were already intimates. “Wait for me while I go powder my nose?”

Xander nodded, grateful for the break. He watched her disappear around the corner to the restrooms and took another sip of his drink before setting it down. From here the plan was simple, get in her car, dial up Spike and avoid letting Carmen touch him until the cavalry showed up.

“So, you rich?”

“Huh?” Xander turned to see the bartender right behind him. “Excuse me?’

“Scoring a hot babe like that.” The bartender flipped a hand to where Carmen had disappeared behind the corner. “You rich?”

“No,” Xander replied, staring at the spot. “Just lucky, I guess.”

The bartender made a disbelieving noise and moved off to wait on other customers. Xander was still shaking his head at the accusation when Carmen reappeared. He met her at the door.

“My car’s right over here,” she invited, pointing to a mustang convertible. She wasn’t leaving anything to chance, it seemed.

Xander slid into the passenger side, fastened his seatbelt, and reached a hand into his jacket pocket for his phone.

It wasn’t there. He tried to be subtle about patting down his pants pockets in the hopes that he’d placed it there instead. Carmen was pulling out of the parking lot, and he’d dropped the stupid phone back at the bar. He was so very screwed. Time for a little creative thinking.

“Carmen, can I borrow your cell for a minute. I need to let my roommate know I won’t be home tonight.” It was a long shot, but if he could call Spike he might be able to get him on their tail.

“Aw,” she cooed, giving him that million dollar smile and waving his cell phone in her hand. “Did you lose this?”

Xander called himself ten kinds of fool for allowing her to pick his pocket. “Very funny. Give it back, please.” He lunged for it but the seatbelt brought him up short. She tossed the phone out the window.

“Sorry, sweetie,” she said, her voice like sticky fake chocolate. “I needed it to call Dawn. Had to tell her where to bring the robot slayer.”

Xander released his seatbelt and hoped he could survive a leap from a moving vehicle. He froze when he saw Carmen’s features morph into the same face he saw every morning while shaving.

“Wouldn’t want her to miss the party,” his double said.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Dawn was in trouble. This was hardly an unusual situation, but it was the first time Xander was directly responsible for it. The teckla smirked at him like it knew there was nothing Xander could do about its scheme. Xander hadn’t known his own face was physically capable of looking that smug. The trap was neatly sprung, only it was Dawn who was in its jaws, and Xander had no idea where this thing had sent her.

He was going to find out.

Xander lunged across the seat to slam the teckla’s head against the side window. “Where is she, creep!”

It seemed this was not the reaction the Xander-clone had expected, as he fought to keep the car on the road while being pummeled. It didn’t work. The car skidded off the road and into a ditch. Xander’s shoulder slammed into the steering wheel, but he barely noticed. He didn’t loosen his grip on his look-alike and, when the door popped open, both of them went tumbling from the vehicle.

Xander got in a couple more good punches before scrambling away from his evil twin. Now that trying to keep the car on the road was no longer a distraction, Xander couldn’t let the teckla touch him. He was vastly irritated with himself for his own arrogance. He’d been so certain the mental defenses they had set up were all he needed that he wasn’t carrying anything but a stake. A crossbow would be mighty handy about now.

Fortunately, evil twin didn’t seem to have any distance weapons on him either. They circled each other. Xander couldn’t afford to be incapacitated until he’d gotten a warning to Dawn. They hadn’t traveled that far from the bar. If he could outpace the teckla, he might be able to get to Spike and hope like hell he wasn’t too late. He had no idea what they planned to do to Dawn once they had her, and absolutely no desire to find out.

Xander tried to get his bearings while staying out of reach. If he was going to make a run for it, going the wrong direction would be a possibly fatal waste of time.

A set of headlights came into view. He was without landmarks here in the dark, but he was pretty sure they were approaching from the direction of the bar. He was just trying to figure out how to flag the car down when it came to a screeching halt ten feet away.

Spike leaped out of the driver’s side. Xander was so happy to see him he almost didn’t avoid evil twin’s lunge forward.

“Quick Spike!” evil twin shouted. “It’s the teckla, you’ve gotta kill it.”

If he’d had more time, Xander would have given his evil twin a zero for originality, probably heckled the completely cliché delivery as well. As it was he didn’t have time. “Call Dawn! He’s sent her somewhere. The trap was for her.”

The comical expression Spike wore at staring at two Xanders distracted him for a second. He was even more distracted by the look that crossed Spike’s face before he even finished speaking. It was a look that promised violence and pleasure in equal measure and Xander knew Spike had them sorted out.

Spike made a grab for the evil twin, who realized the lame ruse hadn’t worked a couple seconds too soon. Xander relaxed fractionally once he was able to deliver the message to Spike and was unprepared for the flying tackle headed his way. He tried to step out of the way but it was an all or nothing leap at close range and collision was inevitable. He got a good look at his own face headed for his chest, then impact.

Blackness.

He shook his head to clear it and realized a couple of things at once. He was tied to a straight-backed chair and there was a blindfold over his eyes. He had no idea where he was or how long he’d been out.

He took comfort from the fact that he had managed to deliver his message to Spike. By now he’d be pulling Dawn out of whatever trap they had set off. Meaning Xander needed to worry about his own skin. Since he couldn’t see, he concentrated on what he could hear. There was a shuffling noise as if someone were walking around nearby and a muffled whimpering sound. There was the sickly sweet stench of recent death in the room. Put together with the whimpering, Xander concluded he was in the lair of the Jerib gang and that they had arrived too late for some of the captives.

Rachel’s haunted face flashed across his mind. He could imagine half a dozen faces just like hers staring at him in sightless accusation. Some rescuer he turned out to be. He pushed anger at his failure out of his mind to focus on more practical matters. Trying to be subtle in his movements, he tested the rope that secured his hands behind his back. There wasn’t a whole lot of give.

“Bout time you woke up,” Spike’s jovial voice was unexpected.

“Spike! What are you doing here? Where’s Dawn?”

A comforting hand fell on his shoulder. “Relax, luv. She’s right here, safe and sound.”

The words were more confusing than reassuring. If Dawn was here and safe, he must have been out a lot longer than he thought. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he wasn’t going to find out tied to this chair. “Quit fooling around and untie me, Spike.”

“I kinda like you like this,” Spike said seductively, running a hand up his neck.

Xander jerked his head away. In a low enough voice he prayed only Spike could hear him, he said, “No bondage fun in front of Dawn, Spike. Now untie me.”

“Can’t wait for the big reveal, eh? Can’t untie you, but I can get rid of this for you.” Spike untied the blindfold and took it away. Xander blinked in the sudden brightness. Once his eyes adjusted, he saw that he was back home, in the living room where they had performed the spells a few hours ago. He turned toward Spike, who had a very self satisfied look on his blood-streaked face.

“Are you hurt? Where is everyone?” Xander heard his voice rise to a whiny pitch. He hated it, but he was battling a major freak out right at the moment.

“Me?” Spike gave him a smirk Xander hadn’t seen in years, as he crouched down to speak softly inches away from Xander’s ear. “I’m tip top. No more nasty circuitry screwing up the works.” Xander had barely grasped what that sentence might mean when Spike grasped his chin and moved his head so he was looking into the dining room. “And everyone else is right here, right where they’re supposed to be.”

Xander was too shocked to scream. It was like his whole body had been suddenly dunked into ice water. Willow, Tara and Giles were thrown together in an untidy pile, arms and legs tangled together like a pile of jackstraws, their clothes spattered in gore from their ripped out throats.

“They make quite a picture, don’t they?” Spike turned Xander to face him again. He laid claim to Xander’s mouth with a deep, passionate kiss, foul with the blood of his friends. Xander didn’t respond, he didn’t pull away, he might as well have been one of Drusilla’s dolls. His thoughts wouldn’t catch up with the scene, like an out-of-synch soundtrack. “Well, that was disappointing,” Spike complained. “Aren’t you happy for me?”

From the snarled chains of thought in his head Xander managed to draw out one statement, a life raft to cling to. “You said Dawn was safe.” His voice barely rose above a whisper.

“And so she is,” Spike sing songed. He brightened as if he’d figured out the cause of Xander’s distress. He turned Xander to the opposite corner from the bodies. Dawn was tied in another dining room chair, whimpering softly around a gag. Tear tracks marred her cheeks but there were no fresh tears, as if she had run dry.

“Not a mark on her,” Spike assured. “Saved her for your first meal.”

Something inside Xander snapped. This couldn’t be real. Spike might kill Giles, Willow, Tara, even himself, but not Dawn, never Dawn. No matter how real this felt, and the unyielding wood of the chair and the scratchiness of the rope felt very real, this had to be a nightmare.

Then it clicked. Of course it was a nightmare, this was how the teckla operated. He closed his eyes, shutting out the sights and trying to ignore Dawn’s pitiful whimpers and Spike nuzzling at his neck. He concentrated on the shillelagh, holding it in his bound hands. Instantly, it was there. He rubbed a thumb over the jet bound into the head and opened his eyes again. The unreality of the scene became more apparent. Unless he’d been out for days, there was no way Spike had time to perform the carnage displayed before him. The teckla had tapped into an old fear that had troubled his sleep over a year ago. He wasn’t buying it.

He ignored the not-real Spike and concentrated on the feel of the amethyst against his chest, then he looked around for his true assailant. He spotted her by the door. She was a spindly, insect-like thing in a rather unpleasant shade of puce. “You had me going there for a minute, Carmen,” Xander taunted. “But you took it just a little too far.”

While it was true his best weapon had always been his mouth, being tied to a chair was not getting him out of here. He needed to get untied and end this. A gasp of pain escaped him as fake Spike bit into his neck. He bit down on a scream, chanting to himself that this wasn’t real.

In reality, he was lying defenseless by the side of the road, which was not a good place to be, particularly in Sunnydale. Spike was getting Dawn out of trouble and Xander was on his own. Spike wouldn’t have taken him with him, because then the teckla would just have more available victims, ones without the magical protections Xander possessed. Even if he had, this was taking place inside Xander’s head. It wasn’t like he could lend a helping hand here.

Xander felt like a complete idiot.

It was his head. He controlled the environment in here, especially now that he was fully aware of the teckla’s manipulations. He wasn’t tied to a chair if he didn’t want to be. He gripped the shillelagh more tightly and reminded himself the ropes weren’t real. The vampire fangs currently piercing his neck weren’t real either. He focused his mind inward, like Giles had taught him, ignoring the physical sensations and replacing them with what he knew to be real. The ropes and the extraneous characters disappeared, and he stood with his weapon at the ready.

“Guess you’ve never seen the Matrix, huh?”

He couldn’t be sure, but the teckla seemed to be cowering. That was all well and good, but he needed it out of his head, not just cringing from him.

“Just call me Neo,” he said, as he attacked. The teckla fell under the force of the blow. The scene shifted and dissolved. Now he was standing in the middle of a warehouse. The teckla scrambled away from him. Xander looked up and kept on looking up at the hulking vampire in a suit that the teckla was hiding behind.

“Impressive,” the dapper monster admitted. “I’ve never seen someone defeat her before.”

Xander was just wondering if he could take this guy, when movement around him alerted him to the fact that there were others ranged around the warehouse.

“I’m so screwed,” he grumbled under his breath.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Xander stared at a vampire built like a super-sized linebacker stuffed into an Armani suit and sought another escape route. In his peripheral vision, he spotted the other vampires closing in on him. He knew he’d never make it if they had a chance to circle him. Making a wild swing with the shillelagh, more to scatter his opponents than actually intending to hit anything, he charged to break through the line.

A glancing blow hit the vampire to the left but the one on the right closed faster. Xander cursed vampiric speed. He was cuffed on the side of the head hard enough that his ears rang. He got a momentary thrill of satisfaction when he rammed his club into his assailant’s stomach. His opponent clearly hadn’t expected him to counterattack after that blow, but Xander had long since gotten the hang of fighting while impaired.

His triumph was seriously short lived: the precious seconds the scuffle had taken allowed two others to tackle him from behind. Somehow, he managed to hang on to his weapon, not that it did him much good as he was thoroughly pinned to the cold concrete floor. Vampires’ affinity for warehouses was a mystery he supposed he’d never solve.

At least two of them held him to the floor, his cheek pressed against the rough concrete. Someone’s knee embedded itself in his back and his arms and legs were immobilized. He had a good view of the polished guy and not much else.

“That was less impressive,” he said, before turning his back on Xander and addressing the teckla. “You look famished, my dear. Why don’t you take the blonde witch. She looks tasty.”

From his worm’s eye view, Xander tracked where the guy was pointing. Behind him Willow, Tara and Giles sat trussed up and gagged. Tara’s eyes were huge as the teckla moved her direction.

“No!” Xander screamed. Tara was only now recovering from Glory’s mental tortures. Xander wasn’t sure she could survive what the teckla might put her through.

“You’re in no position to bargain, little hero,” the Jerib leader told him conversationally. He leaned back against a stack of boxes. “I must say, I’m a bit disappointed. I expected more of a fight. All that preparation, contingency plans, hiding in this ridiculous warehouse, just to drown kittens in a barrel.”

Tara tried to squirm out of reach of the teckla. It brushed its hand over her cheek and she shuddered.

“If you touch her, I’ll kill you,” Xander gritted out, knowing it was an empty threat. He struggled futilely to get loose. There was no give in the hands that secured him in place. Further threats were prevented by the increase in pressure from the knee in his back. Sucking in enough air to breathe was rapidly becoming his top priority.

The teckla disappeared into Tara, and her body convulsed. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she lay still. Tears flowed down Willow’s ashen face. She didn’t look at him, she didn’t take her eyes off Tara, as if she could somehow share her suffering by observing it.

Xander went through his options. There weren’t many. He scanned the tiny bit of the room that he could see around him, trying to find something to facilitate an escape attempt. Instead, his gaze landed on Dawn, tied to a chair in the corner. The parallels with the nightmare the teckla had put him in were eerie.

“I see you’ve spotted our guest,” the Jerib leader observed. It was maddening how damned civilized he appeared. “Amazing what you can accomplish when you have a hostage your opponents are unwilling to sacrifice.”

Dawn cried in hitching sobs. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten caught.”

“Not your fault, Dawn,” Xander gasped, meaning every word. It wasn’t Dawn’s fault. It was his. There was one piece of equipment he needed to make their plan work and he’d lost it. He’d thought he was so clever putting the cell in his jacket pocket, thinking he could get to it more surreptitiously that way. If he had a brain at all he would have remembered they were springing a trap. All he’d done was make it dead easy for Carmen to snag it out of his pocket without him ever being aware of it. Dawn had gotten a call from him, on his cell phone. She had every reason to believe the call was genuine.

Dawn stared at the ground, defeat and pain in every line of her body. His words of reassurance wasted breath. A glance back at the others showed Tara out for the count. Willow seemed frozen to the spot, her eyes on Tara’s limp figure. Giles stared at him, a look of profound disappointment in his eyes, then he bent his head and looked away.

Xander’s stomach twisted into an even smaller knot than before. That look screamed that Giles expected nothing from him, considered him useless excess baggage. Xander hadn’t seen it since high school, but he couldn’t dispute its validity. They’d poured all this magic into him and, with one stupid mistake, he’d let them all down. He struggled to suck in enough air to breathe. He didn’t have enough to spare for idle threats or words of comfort.

All he could do now was hope Spike had some clever plan. There had to be a way to take these guys by surprise. When Spike made his move, he had to be ready to cause a distraction.

The Jerib leader must have read his mind. “I imagine you are wondering about your vampire ally. You expect him to save you.” He turned to a part of the warehouse Xander couldn’t see and motioned someone over. “He did try.” The false sympathy in the vampire’s voice sickened him. The bastard was playing mind games, Spike couldn’t be captured, not even he carried that much bad luck with him.

Two other vampires came into his line of sight, dragging a bloody and broken man by his arms between them. White blond hair, matted with blond, and the remains of a leather coat identified him as Spike, even as Xander’s mind rebelled at the idea. He looked worse than after he’d fallen from the tower. His limbs were twisted, trailing limply behind him. A broken neck would explain the stillness. Spike had loathed being stuck in a wheelchair, being a quadriplegic could only be Spike’s version of hell. Even if they got out of here, and their prospects were dimming by the second, they faced a torturous recovery, and Spike might hate him by the end of it.

One of the vampires holding Spike lifted his head by his hair. Spike’s face was a mass of cuts and bruises, one eye was swollen completely shut, the other held nothing but despair.

The Jerib leader strolled between Xander and Spike, casually grasping Spike’s hair to turn his face up. “He put up a passable fight, but the end was never in doubt. He knew his life was forfeit either way.”

There was a stake in the Jerib leader’s hand. As if it was nothing at all he stabbed Spike through the heart with it. Spike’s body reacted to the blow with no more acknowledgement than a sack of flour. The one working eye fixed on the Jerib leader in gratitude. Xander silently begged for one last look from Spike, but Spike collapsed into dust without glancing his way. Crushed by more weight than the two vampires on top of him, Xander stopped forcing air into his lungs, all hope and desire to keep trying dying inside him.

Xander couldn’t draw in the air to scream as Spike’s dust settled to the floor. Dawn did it for him.

Dawn’s scream drowned out all other sounds, and Xander closed his eyes to shut out one more source of misery. If he’d only been faster, fought better, been smarter, he could have stopped this. There was always a way out. But they’d left it to stupid, clumsy, normal Xander to save the day, and he had failed.

His hand convulsed around the shaft of the shillelagh, and he concentrated on the feel of the wood. It was smooth and slightly warm in his fist, reminding him of his friends’ love, of the jaunty balloon that had been tied onto the end.

It reminded him of how stupidly gullible he could sometimes be.

This weapon didn’t exist outside the confines of his own mind: the teckla had tricked him again. There was no one holding him, he was not pressed flat against concrete, struggling to pull air into straining lungs. Neo was back in business.

Just for the sheer poetic justice of it, he imagined the vampires on top of him dusted.

The pressure lifted from his back and limbs, and Xander used his weapon to regain his feet. The Jerib leader had looked imposing before, now he looked ridiculous, too over the top to be believable.

“You aren’t real!” Xander shouted as he swung his club through the vampire. He dispersed like mist before the onslaught. The images of his friends remained. They sat bound, resigned and accusatory. These were harder to banish.

He crouched down beside Tara’s still form, ran a hand over her clammy forehead. The teckla was hiding behind her form. Even knowing that, he couldn’t raise a hand against her. He’d have to find another way.

“I’m not as smart as any of you.” Xander let his gaze sweep over each of them in turn. He knew he was talking to himself here, but that didn’t matter. It was him that needed the convincing. “I don’t have magical powers, or super strength, or arcane knowledge. I’m just a normal human, a regular guy, who loves you all to the depth of my soul. But I’m stubborn, and I believe we’re going to win. They’ll have to kill us to stop us and, really, they’re not that good.”

The dark expressions of his friends were replaced with mischievous, encouraging grins before they wavered like heat haze and disappeared. The teckla crouched before him in Tara’s place.

“Guess it’s just you and me now, huh?” Xander rose to stand over the creature. “We going to do this the easy way or the hard way?”

The teckla hissed at him, then he was in a graveyard at night, surrounded by his friends in vamp face. Dawn made a lunge at him.

“Oh please. You aren’t even trying now.” He walked through her, scanning the terrain for his prey. “Hard way we can do.”

He spotted the teckla behind a tree and headed for it. It broke into a run. The scene changed around him, he ignored the lightshow. He ran through obstacles, confident in their lack of substance. He caught up to it and tackled it to the ground.

They struggled, rolling in clinging mud, sharp rocks, itching thorns, anything the creature could come up with to distract. Xander barely noted the changes in passing and pressed on.

At last, he straddled the teckla’s waist, holding the club across its throat. He looked into its terrified face and didn’t flinch, even as that face became Giles, Willow or Dawn. He just kept pushing until he felt bone and tissue give under his hands and all the struggling ceased. Even then he didn’t stop.

The staff disappeared and he was kneeling in gravel beside a road. Still he kept throttling the limp form beneath him with his bare hands.

A hand rested lightly on his shoulder. “Its dead, luv.”

Something in Xander’s chest eased at the sound of Spike’s voice, but he couldn’t trust it. The teckla had fooled him twice already, it wasn’t getting another shot.

He released his grip on the body beneath him. The creature’s neck was a pulpy mess; there was no sign of life. Then again, playing possum would be an art form for the demon. There had to be some way to be sure, some test. Spike’s arm braced across his back felt real enough, but that was no proof. Spike shouldn’t be here, he should be wherever Dawn was, protecting her.

“Dawn?” The one word took more effort to utter than he expected. He ached all over, especially his right shoulder where he’d hit the steering wheel. His vision was wavering in and out of focus. He needed to figure this out right now, before he passed out.

Spike was crouched down beside him, Xander suspected Spike’s arm was all that was holding him up at the moment. “Safe at home,” Spike assured him. “They all are. You were the last one fighting. Let’s get you in the car, time to go home.”

Everyone safe. He wanted to believe in that reality, but he had to be sure. He attempted to summon his weapon to his hand. Nothing happened. It was shaky proof, he might be too wiped out to call it up, but it would do. Besides, his subconscious mind would have known Spike was off rescuing Dawn, not guarding him. A goofy grin spread across his face even as he slumped against Spike’s shoulder. Spike helped him up and kept him moving to the car. “You stayed.”

“Course I stayed. Think I was going to leave you by the roadside like yesterday’s trash?”

Xander didn’t feel like telling Spike that was exactly what he’d thought. Dawn was in trouble, but Spike had stayed for him. He grinned a little bigger as Spike manhandled him into the passenger seat, he really didn’t have the strength to maneuver himself. Psychic battles really took it out of you.

“Thanks.” He was pretty sure he got the word out before the world went from gray to black.

Chapter Thirty

The stabbing pain in Xander’s right shoulder propelled him to consciousness.

“Ow!” he complained, shoving Spike away.

“Told you we should cut the damn shirt off,” Spike said as he released him back to his comfortable position on the couch.

At the threat to his last Hawaiian shirt, Xander levered himself back up and let Tara help him take it off. His body ached from the beating it suffered from the car wreck and the brief fight with the teckla, and he sank back against the fluffy pillow placed on the arm of the couch. Spike and Tara seem to have divided him in half, with Tara taking care of above the waist and Spike below.

Nice as that should be, Spike’s hands were completely clinical as they checked for injuries, and Tara’s gentle touch made him squirm as it moved over tender ribs and his sore shoulder. This didn’t feel like a hallucination, but then, neither had any of the other scenarios.

“Nothing seems to be broken,” Tara reassured him. “But you’ve got some deep bruises.”

Given the night’s activities, he knew how lucky he was. He focused in on the rest of the room. Willow, Giles, Dawn and Jonathan sat in a semicircle facing the couch, all of them staring at him intently. Jonathan hadn’t appeared in any of the other scenes the teckla had staged for him. The whole set up was different than any situation he thought the teckla would create, but he’d already been fooled twice. He wanted this to be real so very badly, but he had to be sure.

“Willow, quick, explain a calculus function to me,” Xander demanded desperately.

“What?” Willow asked, baffled. She turned to Tara. “Are you sure he doesn’t have a head injury?”

“Willow, just, say something smart, something I wouldn’t understand,” Xander pleaded.

Willow rattled off some incomprehensible equation that Xander didn’t understand a word of.

“Wahoo!” He thrust both arms in the air, wincing as he jarred his shoulder. “I’m really home.”

“Yes. Interesting test,” Giles said, “Since the induced hallucinations came from your own mind, anything your mind could not readily grasp is unlikely to be part of a delusion created from your subconscious thoughts.”

If anything, Xander’s grin broadened. “Don’t change, Giles. Never change.”

Dawn shook her head at all of them, giving the impression she believed herself trapped in a house with a bunch of lunatics. She just might be right. “How are you feeling, Xander?”

“Kind of wrung out,” Xander admitted. Tara was rubbing some kind of salve into his shoulder and Spike was bending his leg. “Apparently, I’m fully poseable too.”

“Git,” Spike grumbled, but moved on to rotating his foot one way then another. “Lucky bastard didn’t even sprain anything.”

“You sound disappointed, Spike,” Willow teased. “Were you hoping to nurse him back to health?”

“Might have kept him from risking his neck for a few days, anyway,” Spike continued his manipulations with the other leg. He was finding some tender spots, but all parts seemed present and in good working order.

“You used a lot of mental energy fighting the teckla,” Tara explained, drawing Xander’s attention away from what Spike was doing. “There’s a physical cost to that.”

Willow must have noted the slight panic that crossed his face because she hastened to add. “But a good night’s sleep should have you back in tip top shape.”

“I staked a vampire,” Jonathan declared from left field. He was riding a high of adrenaline and pride that Xander knew well. Give the guy an hour or two and he’d be crashing hard.

“We know, Jonathan,” Giles spoke as if he’d repeated the words many times already.

Xander smiled as the irritated tone rolled right off Jonathan’s fixed exuberance. Seconds later, Xander’s brain jostled into gear enough to remember he hadn’t been the only one fighting tonight. “How about you guys, any injuries?”

“Thankfully, no,” Giles said. The calm assurance of his voice soothed Xander’s fears but not his guilt.

“Dawn, I’m so sorry,” he said, tears threatening. “I should never have let her get her hands on my cell.”

For reasons Xander couldn’t comprehend, that brought a huge grin to Dawn’s face. “Don’t worry about it, Xander. It’s no big deal.”

Xander was still blinking at her when Giles commented. “In point of fact, it was quite fortuitous. Dawn played a pivotal role in tonight’s proceedings.”

“Huh?” Xander asked intelligently, all threat of crying erased.

Spike took a seat on the end of the couch and pulled Xander’s legs across his lap. Tara, finished with her nursing duties, leaned back against Willow’s chair. It was story time.

Xander realized that Spike had his arm draped casually over Xander’s hips and no one commented or even looked disapproving. He wasn’t stupid enough to question the détente, he was just grateful for it.

“Mr. Overprotective over there,” Dawn glowered ineffectively at Spike. “Insisted that I verify any call I got, even if it was from one of you.”

“Wait,” Xander gave Spike’s leg a half-hearted kick. “You knew they could become specific people? When were you planning on sharing with the rest of the class?”

“Hey,” Spike pinned his legs down. “I didn’t. Was thinking more along the lines of a hostage situation.”

“It was a good precaution,” Tara said, looking at Spike with approval.

Xander sheepishly mouthed “thank you” to Spike. Spike gave a dismissive hand wave in return.

“So when Dawn got the call from you,” Willow picked up the tale. “She called Spike.”

“How I knew you’d left the bar,” Spike said, softly. Xander suspected Spike was embarrassed that he’d missed their exit.

Dawn fairly bounced in her eagerness to share her story. “Once Spike told me things weren’t the way fake you told me they were, he dashed off after you and I called the others and let them know where the vampires tried to send me and the bot.”

“She saved the day,” Tara agreed.

“One handy dandy cloak spell later, we were inside their hideout.” Willow took over again. “We were able to scope out the area, and we staked three of them before they even realized we were there.”

“I staked a vampire,” Jonathan repeated. Xander wondered how long it had been since he’d said anything else.

“Don’t get cocky,” Xander cautioned. “It’s not so easy when they know you’re there.”

“Actually, that’s not when he staked his vampire,” Giles said with a smile.

“I, um, I missed,” Jonathan admitted.

Tara leapt to his defense. “Willow and I were trying to do a freeze spell when one of the vampires came up behind us.”

“So, I ran over and staked him in the back,” Jonathan interrupted in his enthusiasm.

“Yes, but you were supposed to be getting the captives to safety,” Giles added sourly.

Xander didn’t want Giles’s disgruntlement over a messy operation to dampen Jonathon’s spirits, so he threw in his two cents worth. “Well, as a long time fan of our two witches, I’m glad you saved them instead. You’re a real Scooby now.”

“I am?” Jonathan appeared ready to keel over from the affirmation.

Xander turned back to Giles. Even with the magical misdirection they had still been outnumbered in the vampire’s stronghold. “So, just the four of you against ten of these guys?” Xander asked in amazement.

“Eight,” Spike corrected. “I did for the two that came to collect you.”

“Indeed,” Giles allowed. “We were fortunate tonight. We caught them off guard.”

“Yeah,” Dawn interjected. “They thought I’d go running out of here with the bot like a total spaz. Idiots.”

“I believe everyone can be proud of their efforts tonight,” Giles commended. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes in obvious exhaustion. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go home and go to bed.”

“What, no victory party?” Willow cajoled.

“Perhaps later,” Giles said. “Jonathan, would you like me to drop you at your house?”

Jonathan looked like the evening was catching up with him, he nodded.

Xander swung around to be upright on the couch but needed Spike’s help to get to his feet. Spike’s arm slid into place around his back, keeping Xander standing. Goodnights were said and Giles and Jonathan headed home.

“I’ve got a shift at the Doublemeat tomorrow. Blearg,” Willow griped.

“Yeah, but next week the bot takes over,” Xander reminded her.

“Then you get to do all that cool programming stuff,” Tara encouraged.

Willow seemed marginally mollified. “What are you doing tomorrow, Xander?”

“Sleeping in,” he stated without hesitation. Then he caught Dawn’s eye. “How about we go get a Christmas tree tomorrow afternoon?”

He’d debated decorating for Christmas for weeks now. He didn’t know if it would be too much of a reminder of the people they’d lost. Dawn’s response flattened that worry.

“Can we?” she chirped, throwing her arms around his neck. “We can get the ornaments out of the attic, I know right where everything goes, and—“

“Okay, okay,” Xander conceded, prying her arms from their stranglehold. “Spike and I will help you get every last box down tomorrow.”

“We will?” Spike quirked an inquiring eyebrow at him.

“We will,” Xander reiterated firmly. Spike was not going to sit around and laugh and point. Participation was required. It was time to chase some of the ghosts out of the corners of this house. “But right now I need sleep.”

Dawn bounded upstairs, rattling off decorating plans as she went. Willow suggested Winter Solstice touches to add to the festivities. Tara just shook her head, but she looked happy as she followed them up.

“Well, that’s one disaster averted,” Xander sighed. He was glad for Spike’s supporting arm, which was carrying practically his entire weight. Sometimes vampiric strength was a definite asset. As they headed for the basement, Xander laid his head on Spike’s shoulder. “I had all kinds of sexy plans for tonight, but all I’m up for is about twelve hours of sleep. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Spike whispered, planting a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll make my own fun. Soundly as you sleep, bet I could write song lyrics across your arse without you waking up.”

“How about you just settle for ‘property of Spike,’” Xander suggested while nuzzling harder against Spike’s shoulder.

“Could do that -- the truth after all,” he agreed.

“That it is.” Maybe they were a different “three little words” than the traditional, but they meant the same thing.


End file.
